


though the storms will push and pull

by the_one_that_fell



Series: OMGCP Rare Pair Hell [4]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: F/F, Getting Together, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-08-19 20:12:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8223409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_one_that_fell/pseuds/the_one_that_fell
Summary: It starts with Bitty assuming Lardo is a 6-foot-tall white dude and ends with something beautiful.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what this is. 
> 
> I can’t guarantee when or if this will update but I have a bunch of the next chapter written and I want it all out of my drafts so….let me know if you like it?

 

The first time, Bitty assumed it was just a joke.

Ransom and Holster had him pinned between them, trying to figure out what his type of woman was. 

Bitty wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. 

It was a throwaway comment, really. Rans and Holster were teasing Jack for being picky, when Ransom added, “And we would've found one for Shitty if he wasn't holding out for Lardo-”

Shitty’s response was instantaneous. “Fuck you, guys.” 

The first time, Bitty brushed it off as a typical bro-joke. He was a little preoccupied getting Ransom and Holster off his back, and from the stories he'd garnered that Shitty and Lardo, the team manager, had a bromance rivaled only by Ransom and Holster’s own. 

But the jokes kept coming and Shitty’s reaction seemed...off to Bitty.

“Guys, seriously, that’s not funny,” Shitty said as Holster and Ransom made kissy noises, chirping him for having Skyped Lardo the previous night. “Lards and I are  _ bros _ .”

When Bitty and his friend, Mason, had been accused of being boyfriends back in middle school, they’d had incredibly different reactions. Bitty asked Katie Hewitt to the Spring Dance; Mason told all the football boys to fuck off and was promptly thrown in a dumpster for his efforts. 

But Shitty’s reaction was...annoyed but not insulted. And never once did he try to defend his heterosexuality. 

Bitty began to wonder if...just  _ maybe _ ...Ransom and Holster were onto something. 

“So, you are Lardo are pretty close, huh?” Bitty asked as he equally spaced the bagel bites on the one not-terrible cookie sheet in the Haus kitchen. Shitty was grabbing beer for all the guys, pausing to crack one open and place it in front of Bitty. “The team manager? That’s the boys keep saying…”

Shitty’s face lit up. “Ah, yeah, man, Lards and I are, like, best bros. I mean,  _ Jack’s _ my best  _ friend _ until the end of time, but Lardo’s my number one bro.”

Bitty failed to see the difference, but nodded anyway. “So, are you going to Screw? Rans and Holster said you wouldn’t let them set you up, because of Lardo…”

Shitty huffed. “Don’t listen to them, I’m  _ not _ pining after Lards. Those two are worse than a fucking dog with a fucking bone. But I  _ know _ they’ll try and set me up with, like, some soccer player they barely know and I’m all for making new friends but- listen to me.” Shitty waved his beer can around, slopping a bit of foam onto the kitchen floor. Bitty raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Screw is fun, and let the boys set you up if you want, but be warned. Rans and Holtzy are kind of...idiots.” 

Bitty chuckled and busied himself with putting the bagel bites in the oven. “I gathered as much.” 

Shitty must've been a little drunk, because he stumbled a little as he continued. “And, like, it's not like I would  _ object _ , Lards is super hot and my best bro, but it's not like that with us.”

This answer...was not what Bitty expected. Shitty had just told him that, were the conditions right, he would  _ date _ Lardo - Lardo, the elusive team manager, the undefeated beer pong champ, the bro-iest of bros. Shitty was admitting that he would date a  _ guy.  _ Never in a million years would Bitty have expected that from a teammate, even at Samwell. 

Something stirred in his chest as Shitty rambled on, and for the first time in his entire life, Bitty knew he'd found someone who wouldn't shun him for being himself. 

Two days later, we would text Shitty and ask him to meet outside Annie’s. Two days later, Bitty would come out for the first time.

 

* * *

The Haus kitchen, for all its gross surfaces and faulty appliances, was an absolute Godsend. 

Bitty bustled around the room, mixing this and kneading that, whipping up a pie for all the boys to enjoy while Holster forced them to watch the Mindy Project. 

Shitty wandered into the room, ranting about misogynistic romance tropes in a way that made Bitty think he was only doing it to get out of watching more of the show. That, or he was drunk, if the worryingly crumpled beer can in his hand was any indication. 

“Shitty, can you come over here for a sec?” Bitty asked, not looking up from his work. Shitty sauntered over, dressed only in a pair of red boxer-briefs, and leaned against the counter.

“What's up, Bits?” He asked, taking a swig of his beer. “Ooh, is that strawberry?” 

Bitty nodded and pushed over the bowl of extra berries he hadn't used. Shitty grabbed three and shoved them all into his mouth. 

“Well, uh, I wanted to talk to you about Winter Screw,” Bitty said, laying down a strip of his lattice. “Um.”

Shitty swallowed and grabbed at another strawberry. “Hit me, brah. What's on your itty bitty mind?”

Bitty took a deep breath. This was it. “I just thought, maybe, since Lardo’s abroad, you might wanna go to Screw with me? As friends?” Bitty asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh,” Shitty said, a little stunned. “Sure, brah. But don’t you want Rans and Holtzy to set you up?”

Bitty gave him an incredulous look. “Have you  _ met _ them?” 

Shitty snorted and slapped Bitty on the back. “Alright, alright, you make a compelling point. Sure, Bits, it’d be nice not to be totally stag.”

Bitty beamed at Shitty. Sure, Bitty’s first real date with a guy was going to be platonic, but Shitty was one of his best friends at Samwell. Even if the night wouldn’t end with a goodnight kiss, it would still be more ideal than whatever Ransom and Holster would cook up for him. 

“Great!” Bitty said, going back to his lattice. He concentrated on straightening all the strips to fight the blush he knew was growing on his cheeks. 

  
  


* * *

Winter Screw was the most fun dance Bitty had ever been to, though he couldn’t say his track record was exactly impressive. High school dances were something he tried to put behind him. High school in general was something he was trying to put behind him. 

He started the night by meeting up with Shitty at the Volleyball pregame. Since neither of them had been “screwed” by their friends, Shitty had asked Lauren - captain of the volleyball team and a senior WGSS major - for invites to what he referred to as the “sickest Screw pregame, Bits, seriously.”

“She’s Johnson’s girlfriend,” Shitty clarified as they walked up the steps of the Volleyball house. “I think they’re, like,  _ it _ , you know? Soulmates. Probably already married and didn’t bother to say anything.”

Bitty laughed. “That sounds like Johnson alright.” Bitty really liked their starting goalie, but he was...unusual to say the least. “Okay, so our hostess for the evening is Lauren, girlfriend to Johnson. We’ll meet April and March, but I’m not allowed to mention Holster around them because April hates his guts? Oh, and I shouldn’t drink more than one cup of their jungle juice because they use proofs of Everclear that are currently illegal in the state of Massachusetts.” Bitty looked up at Shitty, fidgeting with his bowtie. “Am I forgetting anything?” 

“Yeah, brah,” Shitty said, clapping him on the back. “You’re forgetting to  _ relax _ . It’s a party. We’ll get drunk, go to the dance, make fun of Jack and his date, make fun of Ransom and Holster for  _ losing  _ their dates, and get our groove on until someone pukes or they kick us out.”

“Right,” Bitty said, nodding. He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. “I’m ready.” 

“Oh, Bits,” Shitty said fondly. “You’re gonna love the volleyball girls, stop worrying. Lauren’s mad chill. Trust me.” 

“I do,” Bitty said simple, and let Shitty drag him into the house. 

The pregame was, as Shitty predicted, very fun. Lauren was just as weird as Johnson, but also seemed to like Bitty just as much. March and April were a wild team, two completely opposite personalities with a friendship that rivaled Ransom and Holster’s, and Bitty chatted with them for ages about his classes and baking and the ups and downs of being a freshman. Shitty got them both drinks from the tub of jungle juice, and after one sip Bitty was pretty sure the stuff could peel paint off a wall from the smell alone. He tried to pace himself, taking one sip for every third of Shitty’s. 

Then they got to the dance and everything was a mess. 

As predicted, Ransom and Holster were drunk and unsure of where their dates had gotten off to.  Bitty was pretty sure they were the two ladies leaning against the wall and  _ laughing _ at the d-men, but he didn’t say anything. 

Ollie and Wicks had both gone stag, taking Bitty’s cue and not letting anyone from the team set them up. They seemed to be doing okay for themselves, chatting with a group of girls, though Ollie looked like he was five seconds from passing out onto Wick’s shoulder. 

Jack and his date both seemed sober, which Bitty thought was fitting. He and Shitty were  _ not _ sober by any means, especially not when Shitty hollered across the room, “ZIMMERMANN. GET THAT BEAUT ASS OVER HERE.” 

And that was how Bitty met Camilla Collins, captain of the tennis team, sober only because she had a match in the morning. 

“Otherwise I’d be as smashed as Shitty is,” she told Bitty in an undertone as Shitty tried in vain to pull Jack into a headlock. “Luckily the girls set me up with Jack, so I knew I wouldn’t have to worry about hurting his feelings or anything.” 

Bitty smiled and nodded, then gave Camilla a once-over. She and Jack looked good together, her powder-blue dress matching his eyes. She was very short and very blonde and - he learned quickly - a very serious competitor.” 

“Cami’s the only person to ever come close in beating Lardo in pong,” Shitty elaborated from under Jack’s arm. It appeared that he had lost his wrestling match. “Close, but no cigar, I’m afraid.” 

“Oh, well, that’s a high honor, coming from Shitty,” Bitty said. Camilla giggled and took his hand.

“Boys, I’m afraid I need to steal Eric for a bit. Don’t get into trouble without us.” 

She pulled Bitty from the room, down the hall where several couples were making out. Two sorority girls were screaming at each other, and another was in tears, mascara running down her cheeks. Further down, Bitty could see a lacrosse bro throwing up into someone’s purse. All-in-all, it was a typical college party, just with fancier clothes. 

With a wink, Camilla pulled him into the girls’ room, but no one seemed too bothered by his presence. This was a part of college life he was getting used to - on the weekends, when alcohol was flowing freely, no one gave a damn about the gender divide of the bathrooms. Several people were perched on the counter next to the sinks, having some serious political debate. Two girls were chilling in one of the stalls, passing a joint between them. Cami hopped up onto the counter next to the others people and pulled Bitty to stand between her legs. Smiling goofily, she began tidying up his hair where Shitty had messed it up earlier. 

“So. You and Shitty, huh?” She asked, moving onto his bowtie. “You guys are cute. What’s the story?” 

“Oh, uh, no story,” Bitty said quickly, eyes darting to the other people in the bathroom. He knew this was Samwell and that no one would care, but he still blanched at the idea of gossipping about a cute boy in public. “We’re just here as friends.”

“Aw, but why?” Camilla asked, smoothing out the wrinkles on his dress shirt. “He seems to really like you.” 

Bitty shook his head. “N-no, just friends. I think- I don’t if I’m supposed to talk about it, but  _ Lardo- _ ”

“Oh.” Camilla’s smile dropped. “I didn’t realize they’d- they never really made anything official, I thought maybe they were just friends.” When she saw the look on his face, she sighed. “I’m sorry, I dragged you in here and just made you sad.”

“No,” Bitty shook his head, smiling up at her. “It’s no biggie, he’s just a friend. I guess, I just- I wanted to let Ransom and Holster set me up but it’s so scary, you know? I didn’t get to be out in high school, it’s all still so new to me here.” 

“Aw, babe,” Camilla said, cupping his face in her hands. “You’re so young, I didn’t even realize. There are so many boys here who’ll love to get to know you, Eric. And you made the right call - Justin and Adam have literally only ever made one good Screw match - me and Jack. They don’t have the most discerning taste.” 

Bitty huffed a laugh. “Thanks, Camilla.” 

She smiled at him for a moment, then hopped down off the counter and took his hand again. “C’mon, the boy’ll wonder where we went. If you need an excuse to leave, I’d appreciate to have a strapping young man walk me home.” 

“You’re only two years older than me,” he reminded Camilla, letting her pull him from the bathroom. “I know I look like a baby, but I promise I’m 18.” 

“There you beauts are,” Shitty called as they returned to the party. “Jack thought you ran off together and left us here like a coupla squares.” 

Jack sighed. “Literally all I said was, ‘They’ve been gone a while.’”

“Which in Jack Speak means, ‘my friends have been taken and I’m gonna go Liam Neeson on the kidnappers’ asses,’” Shitty said gleefully. 

Jack turned to Bitty with a stern expression. “Bittle. Why would you voluntarily come here with  _ him _ ?” 

Bitty felt his face grow warm and he struggled to answer, but Shitty cut him off before he could say anything. “Jack Laurent, I am  _ wounded _ .” 

“I’m sorry to break up this party,” Camilla said, placing a hand on Jack’s arm. “But I need to be heading home. It’s getting late.” 

Jack smiled down at her, and something small and foreign ached in Bitty’s chest. “Let me grab my coat, I’ll walk you home.”

“Thanks, Jack,” Camilla said, turning to wave to Bitty and Shitty. “I’ll see you both later. Eric, Facebook me about those muffins we talked about, I want to get your opinion.” 

Bitty nodded. “Oh, of course! It was lovely to meet you, Camilla. Bye, Jack.” 

They wandered off to find Jack’s jacket, and Bitty turned to Shitty. “So, if you’re ready to go I can find our jackets, or-”

“Ready to go?” Shitty asked, incredulous. “Bitty, brah, you can’t take your party cues from  _ Jack Zimmermann _ . We haven’t even danced!” 

Bitty bit his lip. He did love to dance. “Well, alright, then, Mr. Knight. If you think you can keep up.” 

“Oh,” Shitty said, loosening his tie. “Oh, Bits, it is  _ on _ .” 

 

* * *

Bitty woke up the next morning on the nasty green couch in the Haus living room, Shitty’s suit jacket draped over him like a blanket. After running to the bathroom to throw up, Bitty folded the jacket neatly and left it outside Shitty’s room. All-in-all, it was the best first date he could’ve hoped for. Even if everything had been one-sided. 

On his walk of shame, Bitty opened Facebook and saw he had a friend request from Camilla Elizabeth. He clicked  _ accept _ and began tapping out a message about his Moomaw’s walnut muffins. 

  
  
  


* * *

Bitty was in the kitchen, urging Betsy to heat up for his pie, when a woman appeared in the hallway. She was short - several inches shorter than Bitty - with dark, cropped hair and chunky, black boots. She was very cool-looking and totally out of place in the run-down frat house.

“Sup,” she said, hands in the pockets of her oversized denim shirt. “You seen Shits ‘round?” 

“Oh, my goodness-!” Bitty started, surprised by her sudden appearance. “Um, no, I haven’t seen him? But, oh, should I text him? Do you need his number?”

The girl shook her head, unfazed. “Nope. Said he’d be ‘round the Haus today.”

Just as she began saying something about Betsy and turning the old oven into a sculpture, Bitty heard Shitty’s voice screech down the hallway. “ _ LARDO _ !” 

And then the girl was almost knocked to the ground, half-hugged, half-tackled by Shitty before he'd even had a chance to take off his jacket. 

Something sunk in Bitty’s stomach as he slowly came to the realization that  _ this _ was Lardo. Tiny, artsy, and female. Mortification bubbled in Bitty’s gut uncomfortably. 

He was brought back to the conversation by Jack.

“Oh, and I see you've already met Bittle, eh?”

Lardo turned in the bear-hug Jack was giving her to look at Bitty, a smile softening the sharp edges of her gaze. “Actually, dude, no,” she said, pulling away from Jack to shake Bitty’s hand. “Name’s Lardo. Team Manager. Kinda keep the boys running.”

Bitty shook her hand, forcing a smile to hide his absolute mortification. Shitty wasn’t gay. Lardo was a girl. Shitty was holding out for a girl. He’d only gone to Screw with Bitty because it was platonic. And he’d probably seen right through that excuse and said yes anyway out of pity. 

Bitty heard Lardo say something about his pies, so he retorted with an overly cheerful, “Well, goodness gracious, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” And then, because he couldn’t stop his mouth from talking when he was nervous, he added, “But for some reason I thought you’d be-”

Lardo smirked and him and finished his thought. “A six-foot-tall white dude? Chyeah. It’s probably because of all the dumb stories the boys tell.”

And, sure, he had built all the infamous Lardo stories into his mental narrative of Shitty’s overseas boyfriend, but mostly it had been his assumption - hope? - that he wasn’t the only gay boy on the team.  _ Stupid _ , he cursed at himself.  _ So stupid _ . 

“Bits?” Shitty asked, looking at him with concern. “You alright?” 

Bitty nodded, hoping no one could notice the panic he was feeling. “I, uh.”  _ Stupid, stupid crush.  _ “I gotta meet some people, um, for class. I'll see y’all around!” 

“Okay, bye?” Shitty called after him. But Bitty didn’t look back as he raced out the door, hot tears of shame and heartbreak welling up in his eyes. It was all so ridiculous, the crush, the assumptions,  _ Winter Screw _ , but Bitty needed to get away from everyone for a while and just let himself cry. He circled the Pond for an hour, shivering in his too-thin coat, and wondered if he could get Ollie or Wicks to grab his stuff from the Haus without asking any questions.  _ Lord almighty _ , he thought to himself, heaving a sigh.  _ I left all my things there, I’m sure they’re suspicious now _ . 

Later, when Ollie was handing off his stuff outside Founders, Bitty realized that it wasn't the fact that he hadn't taken his satchel or books with him that afternoon that made his excuse transparent. Before leaving, Ollie asked if he was feeling alright, and told him that he’d left a pie in the oven, unattended. 

 

* * *

Bitty had been avoiding the Haus lately and Shitty couldn't shake the feeling that it was somehow his fault. 

Which was ridiculous, because Jack also lived at the Haus and he'd spent the better part of the year being a major dick to Bitty, so really if Bitty was avoiding anyone it'd be  _ Jack _ . And yet...Shitty worried. 

“Maybe he found a better oven,” Lardo said, not looking up from her sketch pad. “Or maybe he got creeped out by how much you stare at him.” 

Shitty was dumbfounded for a solid minute - a personal record - then sputtered out, incredulously,  “I don't  _ stare _ -”

“Yeah, you do,” Lardo said, rooting around in her pencil bag for an eraser. “It's weird. But endearing.” 

Shitty glared at her, arms crossed over his chest. “Fine, he’s cute, sue me. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you pining over Camilla Collins.” 

Lardo’s brows twitched together, the only sign that Shitty had hit his mark. “Don’t bring Jack’s girlfriend into this.” 

“Alright, alright, fine,” Shitty said, holding up his hands in surrender. Then, more seriously, he asked, “Do you think I really creeped him out?” 

Finally, Lardo looked up from her drawing. “I don’t know, Shits, I don’t know the kid. I  _ do _ think that if you did, he’d be too polite to say anything about it. But I always  _ was _ joking - the staring isn’t that obvious. And he seems to really like you.” 

“He’s probably just busy,” Shitty said, more to himself than anything else. “Right? Freshman year’s overwhelming, isn’t it?” 

Lardo shrugged. “Only if you take too many hours like Rans did. But you said he procrastinates a lot, right? Probably just catching up before playoffs.”

Shitty sighed and nodded. “Right. That’s gotta be it.” 

 

* * *

When Shitty confronted Bitty about it, cornering him after class a few weeks before playoffs, Bitty brushed him off. 

“I’ve just been busy, Shits,” he said, smiling a little too brightly. “As Jack likes to remind me, baking isn't studying, and I really need to study this semester.”

“Bits, are you okay?” Shitty asked, following Bitty across the quad. “Like, do you need help with anything or is someone giving you shit? You have an entire hockey team behind you, Bits, we will fuckin’ break some skulls if you need us to.” 

“Goodness!” Bitty exclaimed, hand over his heart. “No, Shitty, I swear I’ve just been busy. If you’d like, I’ll come by tonight and make a chess pie.” 

“Promise?” Shitty asked. Bitty nodded, biting his lower lip. 

“I promise. Now let me get to my next class, unless you want me to flunk outta Samwell,” Bitty said, wagging a very non-threatening finger at Shitty. Shitty relented with a laugh. 

“Alright, alright. I just miss you, is all.”

This took Bitty by surprise. “Oh. Ah. Well. I’ll come by tonight.”

“Great! See ya, Bits,” Shitty said, giving him a mock salute. Bitty smiled at the gesture and turned to head to class. Shitty watched him leave, something unsettled in his gut when he noticed the tension in Bitty’s shoulders as he scurried away. It was probably just stress. Probably. 

 

* * *

When Bitty got checked, Shitty didn’t see red the way Holster would later claim. He didn’t even feel anger towards the cock-faced dick-weasel who sent Bitty flying through the air like a fucking rag doll. 

All he felt was fear, cold and numb in his fingertips. 

Shitty didn’t realize he was off the ice until Lardo was holding him back, one hand planted firmly in the center of his chest. Bitty wasn’t there - just Lardo and the stern face that Shitty knew meant she was worried.  _ Fuck _ . 

“He’ll be okay, Shits,” Lardo said gruffly. “I promise. Bits is a hockey player, he's a tough little dude.”

Shitty frowned. “He shouldn't be alone!” He argued, trying to push past Lardo. “Checking is his  _ thing  _ Lards, his bad thing, and now he's all banged up and probably freaked the  _ fuck _ out-” 

“He's a  _ hell _ of a lot calmer than you right now,” Lardo snapped, pushing him back down on the bench. “Coach Hall is with him and I'll go check on him in a second. Meanwhile,  _ your _ best friend is trying to murder the thug who checked Bitty, so if you really want to help you'll get out on the ice and  _ stop him. _ ” 

And she was right. Half the team was trying to start a scrum - mostly Holster and Johnson - but Jack had his gloves dropped and his hands on the  _ huge _ d-man. Only Ransom was trying to stop Jack, so Shitty sighed and nodded. 

“Yeah, okay. But come get me if he's scared, okay? They don't need me to finish this game.” 

Before he could hear Lardo’s response, Shitty was over the wall and skating towards Jack. 

“Jackie,” he said, wedging himself between Jack and Spenser as best he could. “Jack, stop. Not worth it, bro.” 

“That was a dirty check,” Jack spat out. “He’s been pulling that shit all game-”

“Bitty’s  _ fine _ ,” Shitty said, though he had no idea if that was true. “We can kick his ass by winning. C’mon, bro. We need you to finish this game.” 

Jack nodded but didn’t let go of Spenser. Shitty sighed and pushed Jack back. 

“Brah, I’m worried, too. But Lards says Bits is fine - he skated off no problem, right?” Shitty knew his voice was shaking, knew he wouldn’t have had the same reaction if it was Ransom or Holster, but Bitty was  _ bitty _ and he flew through the air like a fucking rag doll and his  _ helmet _ was on the  _ ice _ -

Shitty’s heart raced so fast he thought he might pass out. Bitty was the smallest member of the team, no doubt about it, but not every guy was as big as Holster. And everyone got knocked around, it was the nature of the game, it wasn’t normal for Shitty to be this worried. And he was starting to realize  _ why _ . 

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Fucking fuckity fuck.” 

“What?” Jack asked. Shitty just shook his head. Jack didn’t need to be included in Shitty’s panic. 

He was in love with Bitty. 

“ _ Fuck _ .” 

 

* * *

They won the game, but Shitty didn’t really care. The moment he was off the ice, he sought out Lardo, who looked entirely too unsurprised to see him. 

“Congrats,” she said drily. “Good game.” 

“Lards-”

She rolled her eyes, but gave Shitty a soft smile. “He’s  _ fine _ . I mean, it’s probably a concussion, so not like  _ fine _ fine, but it’s not severe and he’s up walking and talking and asking about the score, so he’s  _ fine _ .”

“Concussion?” Shitty zeroed in on the word, ignoring everything else Lardo was saying. “Have they taken him to the hospital?” 

Lardo sighed. “The medics examined him and say it’s probably a minor concussion. I made him an appointment at the clinic to get a second opinion for tomorrow morning.” She paused, as if deliberating her next sentence. “He’s in the locker room getting changed if you want to see him before the mob. Don’t let them dogpile him or anything, he’s a bit shaken.” 

Shitty was off before she could say anything else, hobbling as fast as he could towards the locker room. 

Bitty was there, like Lardo said, perched in his stall looking dazed and worn. His face was bruised and scraped from hitting the ice, and his shoulders were hunched as he struggled to tie his shoelaces. 

“Bits,” Shitty said, striding over to crouch in front of Bitty. “Here, let- Bits, stop, your hands are shaking. Let me.” 

Bitty let go of his shoelaces and nodded, not meeting Shitty’s eyes. His hands were trembling and he tucked them under his arms as Shitty tied the laces of his sneakers. 

“We won,” Shitty said, unsure of what else to say. “Um. The boys were, uh,  _ impassioned _ by your check. Kicked ass and took names.” 

Bitty’s lips twitched into a pseudo-smile. “That’s good. Um, that y’all won.” 

Shitty grinned up at him, double-knotting the bows just to give his hands something to do. “Holster nearly took one of their guys’ heads off. Bit of a scrum, really. Jack dropped his gloves and everything.” 

“ _ What _ ?” Bitty gasped. “Jack doesn’t- he never fights.” 

Shitty shrugged. “That was a nasty check, Bits, and they’ve been coming after us hard tonight. Truth be told, we were all a little freaked out.” 

“What?” Bitty finally met his eye, looking confused. “Why?” 

“ _ Bits _ .” Shitty rested his hands on Bitty’s knees, raising an eyebrow. “You fuckin’  _ flew _ , man. Like, totally left the ice.”

“I’m aware,” Bitty said drily. Shitty chuckled. 

“It’s one thing to see Rans get knocked down, but when you see your bro get air like that-” Shitty broke off, looking down. “I’m just glad to see you all in one piece, I guess is what I’m trying to say.” 

“Oh.” He couldn’t be sure, but it looked like Bitty was blushing. And,  _ God _ , was it fucking cute. 

“C’mon, bro. You probably don’t wanna be here when the other guys get in.” Shitty stood and helped Bitty to his feet. “Lards is probably stalling, but those fuckers are going to want to see you.”

“I’ll-” Bitty bit his lip. “I’ll wait outside for everyone. I need some air, I think. Everything’s...fuzzy.” 

“‘Kay,” Shitty said, rubbing Bitty’s shoulder. “Here, leave your stuff, I’ll grab it on my way out. Gotta take it easy, y’know, doctor’s orders.” 

Bitty snorted. “It’s just a bag-” He stopped his protests at the look Shitty gave him. “Okay, okay. Thank you.” 

Bitty managed to slip out just as the boys piled in, strangely quiet despite their win. Everyone’s eyes flickered to Bitty’s empty stall, and Ransom asked the room, “Anyone seen Bits yet?” 

Shitty nodded. “Y-yeah” He cleared his throat and said, louder, “He’s okay. They think it’s a concussion, but not too serious. He’s kinda shaky, went out for some air. But he’s okay.” 

Holster and Ransom sighed twin breaths of relief. “Good, I was worried about itty Bitty,” Holster said. “That fuck-nugget Spenser better sleep with one eye open, I swear-”

“Holster, calm down,” Jack snapped. “Bittle’s okay. Let it go.” 

Ransom managed to tackle Holster before he could get more than a few bars into that damned  _ Frozen _ song, but Shitty watched Jack throw his gear into his bag with much more force than necessary. Now, Shitty wasn’t an  _ expert _ on Jack Zimmermann by any means, but he was his best friend and this...this was new. 

Did Jack Zimmermann feel guilty? About something he had no control over?

That part wasn’t new, so much. But this? Directed at  _ Bitty _ , the bane of Jack’s existence? 

“Huh,” Shitty said to himself. “Whadya know.” 

 

* * *

 

Bitty was gone by the time everyone got out of the locker room. A text from Lardo told Shitty she’d escorted him home to avoid the raucous of the hockey team. Shitty tried and failed not to feel disappointed. 

 

They lost the next game, and Shitty threw himself into the care and loving of Jack Zimmermann, but there was a part of him that was still raw, still shaken by Bitty’s check and his newly discovered feelings. So he clung a little tighter to Jack, and watched with hope as Bitty slowly bounced back to his cheerful, peppy self.

 

* * *

  
  


Shitty couldn't believe his eyes. Jack Zimmermann - part hockey robot, part awkward BFF - was  _ apologizing  _ for the check that knocked Bitty from the rest of the season. It would've been hilarious if it hadn't been so endearing. 

“Oh and Bittle, before I forget. This summer?” Jack flashed his most charming smile, the one that sent butterflies fluttering through Shitty’s stomach. “Eat more protein.” 

Bitty leaned against the wall and grinned easily up at Jack. “You have a good summer, too.” 

Then Jack was walking away, jogging down the stairs with his duffle bag. He didn’t notice Shitty hanging out in the doorway like a creep, but that was fine; they’d already said their goodbyes, Shitty making Jack promise to Skype him every week. Jack had rolled his eyes and sighed, but the smile on his face told Shitty he would be hearing from Jack pretty frequently. 

He watched Jack leave, eyes lingering a little too long on his best friend’s  _ fantastic _ ass, when Bitty finally noticed him. Shitty wandered into the hallway, half-waving at Bitty. 

“Oh, Shitty, my mama was just askin’ after you,” Bitty said, grinning up at Shitty. In the sunlit hallway, he looked like summer itself, tanned shoulder and golden hair. Shitty wondered if he was warm, too, warm like the sun streaming through the window. 

Shitty grinned, hands in the pockets of his jean shorts. “Oh, how’s Mama B doing?”

“Well, she still calls you Mr. Crappy,” Bitty said with a laugh. “I tried to tell her your first name is, like, Ben, but she’s really grown attached to the ‘hockey nickname’ thing.” 

Shitty snorted. “I  _ wish _ my name was Ben.” 

“You know you could legally change it,” Bitty said, leaning back against his doorframe. “Brian? Blake? Bill?”

Shitty laughed, throwing his head back and clutching at his bare stomach. “Bits, brah, are you trying to turn into  _ more _ of a creepy uncle? Bill? Really?” 

“Okay,  _ one _ ,” Bitty said, holding up a finger. “You wouldn’t be a creepy uncle if you shaved.  _ Two _ -” He raised his voice to speak over Shitty’s gasp of indignation. “The flow makes you look more hipster than creepy uncle. And Bill isn’t a  _ terrible _ name. My favorite cousin’s name is Billy.”

“Nah, it’s pretty bad. Billy. That’s what you call a goat, not a kid.” 

“Technically a kid  _ is- _ ”

“It’s Bradford,” Shitty said, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I went by Brad all through grammar school-”

“Oh, my God, who calls it  _ grammar school-? _ ”

“Elementary school, you know what I mean.” Shitty huffed, unable to hide his smile. 

“ _ Bradford _ .” Bitty bit his lip, holding back laughter. “I mean, it’s not  _ that _ bad. Ransom and Holster are convinced it’s, like, Bartholomew.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Shitty said. “I think my favorite guess was Lardo’s, back when we first met: Bilius.” 

“Bilius?” Bitty asked, incredulously. “Oh, Lordy, is that even a  _ name _ ?” 

Shitty shrugged. “Even if not, I’d still take it over Bradford. Bradford Stanley Knight, VI. Can you believe that? Six generations called  _ Bradford. _ Ugh.” 

“Oh.” Bitty’s face lit up as he connected the dots. “B.S. Knight? So  _ that’s _ where Shitty comes from?”

“Yeah,” Shitty said with a sigh. “Walked onto the team at Andover, told the boys the only thing they’d know about my name was that the first two initials were B and S, and, well...you can imagine how that went.” 

“Lord,” Bitty chuckled, clutching at his stomach. “You really set yourself up for that, huh?” 

Shitty smiled, warmth pooling in his gut as he studied Bitty’s smile. Like Bitty, it was warm and genuine and full of energy. 

“I guess I did,” he relented, shrugging. “Don’t regret it. Still better than Brad.” 

“Why are you telling me this?” Bitty asked, tilting his head to the side. “Isn’t that one of the big mysteries of the Samwell Men’s Hockey team? Shitty’s real name?”

It was true that no one on the team other than Lardo, Jack, and the coaches knew Shitty’s first name, but Shitty never actively tried to keep up the mystery. He just didn’t like seeing  _ Bradford _ printed next to his number in the roster. 

Maybe Bitty was right, he should change his name to Bill and take his mom’s maiden name and completely cut ties with the Knight motherfuckers entirely. But they were paying his tuition, so maybe...maybe one day. After law school. After Samwell. 

“I guess I just want you to know,” Shitty said with a shrug. “You’re important to me, Bits. I thought it was fair you knew my name.” 

Bitty grinned up at him, sunny and warm and bright. “Thank you, then. For sharing that with me.” 

Shitty took a step closer, drawn in by that smile. He wanted to know what it was like to kiss something so astoundingly beautiful. “Plus, your mom’s gotta call me something other than Mr. Crappy - as hilarious as that nickname is.” 

“Oh, sugar, I don’t think you know what you’re saying.” Bitty leaned up into Shitty’s space a little, maybe unconsciously. “You give her that kind of power and you’ll be  _ Ford _ or  _ Brady _ or  _ something _ . Southern ladies are scary when it comes to nicknames. My Uncle Bubba - his real name’s John. I have no idea where Bubba came from. I  _ think _ it’s ‘cause my Aunt Connie couldn’t say  _ brother _ when she was a baby, but that might just be a family rumor-”

Bitty tended to ramble when he was nervous, Shitty knew. To be fair, Bitty rambled when he was happy, too, but this seemed like nervous rambling to Shitty. Did Shitty make him nervous? Was it a good kind of nervous?

“Hey, Bits?” Shitty asked, reaching out to brush his fingers over Bitty’s bare shoulder. 

“Uh, y-yeah?” Bitty stared at him, doe-eyes wide and searching. 

It was now or never, Shitty figured. If it went wrong - well, they’d have all summer to not talk about it. “Can I kiss you?” 

“What?” Bitty asked. “Really?” 

“I mean, yeah,” Shitty said, fingers following the trails of freckles down Bitty’s arm. “I’d like to, if you want-”

And then Bitty’s mouth was on his, noses bumping, teeth clacking. Shitty tilted his head, adjusting the angle, holding back a groan as Bitty threaded his hands through his flow. It was a short kiss, and Shitty wanted about a thousand more. Bitty smiled at him tentatively. 

“Your mustache doesn’t tickle as much as I thought it would.” 

Shitty laughed and leaned their foreheads together. “I’ll text you, okay? I have to go, Lards has the car running, but I’ll text you,” he said, searching Bitty’s face for any hesitation or regret. When he found none, he added, “Let’s Skype soon, like tonight or tomorrow or something - if you want?” 

Bitty nodded hurriedly, pulling Shitty in for one more kiss. “I’d like that,” he said once they broke apart.

“Have a good summer, Bits,” Shitty said, a bit breathlessly. “Talk soon.” 

“Bye,  _ Brad _ ,” Bitty said with a smirk. “See you in August.” 

Shitty grabbed his bags and jogged down the stairs, looking over his shoulder to look at Bitty once more. From the bottom, Shitty thought Bitty looked almost angelic, backlit by the sunny window at the end of the hall. 

Summer hadn’t even started and Shitty couldn’t wait for it to be over. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is 12k words. How did I get here. What year is it.
> 
> Notes: if you're squeamish, please do not Google ookie cookie. Frat boys are monsters. 
> 
> TW for hazing (Hazeapalooza, which is p mild, and then mentions of much worse frat hazing), explicit sex, a vague mention of consensual rape fantasies (literally just a mention of their existence in the world and that the characters AREN'T into them), tipsy sex

Summer dragged by in an anxious haze. Bitty went to work at summer camp every day knowing that there was a boy a thousand miles away who wanted to kiss him - something he’d never dared to hope he would one day have. Bitty talked with Shitty almost every day, late at night when Coach was too dead asleep to hear. Sometimes Mama caught him Skyping on the weekends, but she loved to see all of _Dicky’s_ friends.

(“You were just so lonely for so long, baby,” she said, brushing back Bitty’s hair as they baked one humid Sunday evening. “Mr. Crappy and the other boys could be bikers or - _Lord forbid_ \- atheists, and I’d still love them for loving you.”

Bitty nearly told her, then and there, but as he opened his mouth to speak, Coach wandered into the kitchen. He didn’t say anything, just grabbed a beer and a cookie to take back into the living room with him, but Bitty lost his nerve, eyes trained on Coach’s retreating form, and asked Mama if she’d spoken to Aunt June lately.)

Most of their conversations were normal - Shitty ranting about his father’s ultimatum to have his flow cut by graduation, Bitty trying and failing _not_ to rant about _his_ father’s disdain for figure skating, planning a surprise party for Jack’s birthday - but some were...new. Sometimes their talks turned more serious, confiding in each other in a way Bitty had never had with a person other than his mother. And sometimes they were... _raunchy_.

(Which, given Shitty’s general nature, took a lot of work on his end. It wasn’t as if Bitty hadn’t spent the last year seeing Shitty _naked_.)

The entire drive up to Samwell, Bitty worried. He and Shitty had gotten closer over the summer, yes, and they’d kissed in May and they’d gone a little further over Skype and Shitty was one of his best friends, but-

But Bitty had no idea where they stood.

He knew, logically, that this was Shitty and he could very easily ask, “Hey, are we dating?” without judgement, but just because Shitty was kind didn’t mean he wouldn’t turn Bitty down. And Bitty really, really, _really_ did not want to get rejected.

His mother noticed his unusual silence as they neared Massachusetts. She cleared her throat a little too loudly and asked, eyes straight ahead on the road, “So, Dicky, I was pokin’ around some message boards the other day…”

Bitty suppressed a groan. Did message boards even still exist? What year was this? “Mhmm?” He prompted, lips pressed together tightly.

“And I was lookin’ at some fun facts about Samwell, y’know, the acceptance rate and demographics and all that fancy-pants stuff, and I saw some people talkin’ ‘bout the motto - ‘One in four, maybe more?’”

“Oh.” _Oh_. Bitty felt a knot tighten in his gut. “Ha, that’s um. It’s just an old sayin’ really. Um, it’s talkin’ ‘bout how many students at Samwell are gay- but! Um. I don’t think it’s accurate, or anything.”

“Huh.” Mama nodded, face too impassive for Bitty’s liking. “But there’s a lot of- I mean. I read it’s the #1 LGBTQ-friendly school in America? Or the world, or somethin’ like that?”

Bitty hid a smile at the way his mother tripped over the acronym. “Um, yeah, it is.”

Mama bit her lip, looking as if she was debating her next sentence carefully. She was silent for a moment as she changed lanes to get around a slow-moving truck, then asked, much too casually, “So what makes it friendlier than other schools?”

Bitty had never, ever envisioned having this conversation with his mother. He was wholly, totally, completely unprepared and here he was, trapped in a moving car.

(Years later he would reflect back on this moment and wonder if she planned it that way. Mama Bittle was surprisingly crafty that way.)

“Oh, well.” Bitty scratched the back of his head, still a little startled by the lack of hair that met his fingers. “There are a lot of, like, support groups and organizations: Athletes and Allies, Rainbow Alliance, peer counselors, you name it. Plus the administration is real good about shutting down bigotry - they’ve got a zero-tolerance policy for hate speech and hate crimes. And the town itself is real liberal, so there’s support from townies as well. It’s just...um. It’s a safe space, I guess.”

Mama smiled a bit and Bitty felt relief flood through his body. “So that’s why there’s so many of y’a- um, so many gay students?” She asked, leaning forward to eye the bumper sticker of the 18-wheeler in front of them. “Dicky, dial that number for me, I wanna report this fella’s driving.”

“Lord, Mama,” Bitty sighed, pulling out his phone. “And, um, yes. That’s why there’s ‘one in four’ at school.” He dialed the number on the semi’s “HOW’S MY DRIVING?” sticker, closing his eyes in exasperation as he handed the phone off to his mother. It was another fifteen minutes until she was done ranting about the driver’s erratic behavior, and after that she didn’t bring up Samwell again.

 

* * *

 

The first thing Bitty saw when he walked through the front door of the Haus was Ransom and Holster wrestling on the ground, shouting something about salmon shorts.

The second thing he saw was Jack stepping carefully around them to slip into the kitchen with the blender bottle he favored for protein shakes.

The third thing Bitty - and his _mother_ -saw was Shitty descending the stairs, completely nude.

“Oh, my!” Mama gasped, covering her eyes. Bitty felt his face turn bright pink, though he couldn’t be sure if it was out of embarrassment or anger.

“Shitty Knight, there is a _lady_ in the Haus!” He hissed, dropping his bag off by Ransom’s head. Rans and Holster paused to shout, “BITTY!” but he ignored them to march up to Shitty, who was grinning excitedly at him. “Upstairs, _now_.”

“Aw, sorry, Mama B!” Shitty shouted over his shoulder as Bitty pushed him back up to the second floor. “Didn’t think you guys would be here so early.”

Bitty huffed dramatically and shoved Shitty into his room, grabbing at the first pair of underwear he saw and chucking them at Shitty’s chest. “As if Mama wasn’t already traumatized enough by Boston drivers- _mmph_!”

Shitty had pulled Bitty’s mouth to his, pushing him back up against the door. Bitty was frozen with shock for a few seconds, then he pressed up against Shitty, wrapping his arms around Shitty’s neck.

“You grew out your flow,” he murmured as they broke apart, running his hand through Shitty’s hair. “Mama thinks you look like a heathen.”

Shitty chuckled, a sheepish grin on his face. “I mean, I think my hair is the least of her worries anymore…”

Bitty smacked Shitty on the chest, glowering at him. “I can’t believe you, you couldn’t go _one day_ without being naked? Seriously?”

Shitty kissed him again, cupping Bitty’s face in his hands. Bitty sighed into the kiss, running his hands up and down Shitty’s ribs. His _bare_ ribs-

“Put some clothes on and help me with my bags,” Bitty said, pulling away. “My mother is a very wholesome lady and I doubt she'll ever really recover. You've scarred her irreparably.”

“Sorry, Bits,” Shitty murmured, not looking sorry at all. Then, in a whisper, he added, “I missed you.”

Bitty felt like he was melted in the heat of Shitty’s smile. “I missed you, too.”

Their mouths met again, hungry and fervent. Bitty arched up as Shitty deepened the kiss, all too aware that Shitty was naked and his mama was right downstairs and he still had no idea what they were doing or where it would. But with his tongue in a cute boy’s mouth, the two of them tucked away in a place where he felt safe, felt accepted, Bitty decided he didn't need to have everything figured out just yet.

 

* * *

 

It was the end of September when Bitty finally asked Shitty to meet him at Annie’s. If Shitty couldn’t tell something was up by the formal tone of Bitty’s text, then he definitely knew when he saw Bitty drinking a dark roast with no cream. Warily, Shitty ordered a latte and sat down across from Bitty, taking in his shaking hands and pursed lips.

“Bits, brah, are you okay?” He asked, reaching across the table to take one of Bitty’s hands. Bitty nodded, smile strained, and cleared his throat.

“I wanted to talk with you, just us,” he said, nodding around the cafe. “I came here with Jack this morning and he was talking about you and I kept wanting to say something but I realized I don’t know where we stand and then I just didn’t leave, you know, and, I mean, Jack already thinks I live here when I’m not in the kitchen but even _he_ could tell something was up and-”

“Bits, _breathe_ ,” Shitty said, squeezing Bitty’s hand. “Slow down. What’s up?”

Bitty bit his lip and looked down at their joined hands. “I just...I guess I just want to ask...what _are_ we?”

Shitty looked up over his latte, foam bubbled on his mustache. “We? As in, you and me? Together?”

Bitty snorted. “That's usually what that word means, yeah. Our relationship.”

“Oh, um.” Shitty set his cup down. “I'm not sure. It's all…” He wobbled his hand around vaguely. “But. Um. What would you like us to be?”

“Oh.” Bitty looked down at his lap, fidgeting a little. “Um. I guess. I guess I'd like us to be…boyfriends?” He grimaced, not meeting Shitty’s eye. “Oh, gosh, that sounds stupid, just forget it-”

“I don't want to,” Shitty said quickly. “I don't want to forget it, I mean. I'd love to be your boyfriend, Bits. But…”

Bitty sighed, heart sinking. “The team?”

Shitty grimaced. “Yeah, I mean, on the one hand, fuck em? But on the other…”

“If it ended, it could mess with the team dynamic?” Bitty finished. “Yeah…”

“How about this?” Shitty scooted his chair closer to Bitty’s and took his hand. “We keep things on the DL, just to see where they go? We’re both reasonable-ish adults, surely if we end things we can end them amicably. I really like you, Bits,” he added at the end, squeezing Bitty’s fingers. “I want to for try something real with you.”

Bitty smiled brightly, lighting up the room. “I’d really, really like that.”

“Perfect.” Shitty went back to his drink, knocking back half of it in one gulp. “ _Fuck_ , that’s hot, Jesus tits on a fuckin’ cowboy.”

Bitty scrubbed a hand across his face. “I signed up for this. I literally just signed up for this.”

“Chyeah you did,” Shitty said, kicking his feet against Bitty’s. “Have you really been here all morning? Jack came back to the Haus hours ago.”

Bitty shrugged. “I was nervous. This is my fourth coffee.”

That explained the shaking hands. Shitty leaned across the table and slowly slid Bitty’s cup away. “How about some water? Or, like, food? Soak up the caffeine?”

Bitty gave him a wry grin. “Did you just ask me on a date? Very romantic.”

Shitty stood and leaned down to kiss Bitty a little more aggressively than he’d meant. “Fuck yeah, I’m asking you on a date. Lunch. Me. You. Thai?”

“Ooh, can we go to that new _Coat and Thai_ place? It looks really cute!” Bitty exclaimed, jumping up and taking Shitty’s hand. “I mean, Thai Kitchen is good, too. But Coat and Thai has umbrellas hanging from the ceiling, it’s so _colorful_.”

Shitty grinned and pulled Bitty towards the door. “Whatever you want, Bits. Whatever you want.”

 

* * *

 

The only person who realized something was going on between Bitty and Shitty was Lardo, but that shouldn't have been a surprise.

“Why’re you two suddenly so handsy?” She asked one night at Pinkberry, eyes red and and grin slow.

“I'm always handsy,” Shitty rebutted, stealing a large scoop of Bitty’s sorbet. Bitty slapped his hand with his spoon.

“Yeah, but not with Bits,” Lardo said, pushing her sprinkles together to form a smiley face on top of her cheesecake Froyo. “Bits isn't handsy with anyone.”

“You’re high,” Bitty told her.

Lardo shrugged, waggling her eyebrows at them. “I wasn’t high when I saw you two snuggling on the couch last night.”

“I think it’s pretty narrow-minded of you to assume two bros can’t snuggle without it meaning more,” Shitty told her, speech not as loud or as indignant as when he was sober. “This is _Samwell_ , Lards. But also we’re dating.”

Bitty rolled his eyes but smiled fondly at Shitty. Lardo smirked into her yogurt.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she said, poking her spoon at Bitty. “But I want you to know that as your best bro _and_ as your manager, you have my royal, managerial support and blessing.”

Bitty smiled at Lardo, patting her hand. “Thank you, that means a lo- _ack!_ ”

Shitty barreled over the table, knocking the napkin dispenser to the ground as he pulled Lardo into a tight hug. Bitty covered his face with his hands, body shaking with laughter. Lardo sighed and patted Shitty on the back.

“Love you, Lards,” Shitty said, pressing a loud kiss to her cheek. She pushed him away, sticking out her tongue.

“I hope you know that I’ll be tallying up your fines until you come out to the team,” she said primly, shoving a huge scoop of yogurt into her mouth. “Like. Daddy Knight better be ready to cut a huge check to the SMH team at the rate you two are going.”

Shitty wrapped an arm around Bitty’s shoulder and pulled him in close. “That’s fair,” he said in his best Lawyer voice. “We accept these terms.” Then he pressed several kisses to the side of Bitty’s face, making Bitty laugh in surprise.

“Gross,” Lardo said, grinning. “Might as well just dump your trust fund into the sin bin preemptively.”

Bitty rested his head against Shitty’s chest. “Imagine the number of pies I could make with that,” he said. “Could open up a bakery in the Haus kitchen. I’d call it ‘Haus and Home.’ Ooh, no, that’s the name of my Food Network show.”

Shitty pecked the top of his head. “I like it. I’ll be your producer, fuck law school.”

“Jack can be your celebrity endorsement,” Lardo added, laughing. “‘Hi. I’m Jack Zimmermann. Bittle’s pies are unhealthy. Not enough protein. Please watch his show. Bye.’”

Shitty cackled. “God, you’re too good at that. Lards, if being a starving artist doesn’t work out, _please_ become a Zimmermann impersonator.”

“Shits, please, we both know you’ll be bank-rolling my art and Bitty’s baking show,” Lardo said matter-of-factly. “I could definitely pursue a career in making fun of Jack Zimmermann, though. Has he given you the ‘concentrate on the game, not your dick’ speech yet? I nearly died when he had to tell Ollie to stop daydreaming about that Tri-Delt he was wheeling last semester.”

“Oh, uh, _no_ ,” Shitty said with a slight grimace. “We haven’t actually, uh. Told Jack yet.”

Bitty pursed his lips. “That’s all you, honey. Jack has only just stopped hating me, I refuse to have that conversation with him.”

Shitty nodded. “Yeah, I know. I just haven’t brought it up yet. I will, and I need to. I just...he’s never had to deal with two guys on the team dating. I’m afraid he...might not take it well?”

Lardo sighed. “Look, we both know Jack isn’t a raging homophobe and he loves you more than anything, Shits, but Jack is...a mess. You just gotta approach it knowing that he’ll have concerns about the team dynamic and blah-blah-blah. He’ll be happy because _you’re_ happy. You just have to remind him of that.”

Shitty nodded. “Yeah. I wouldn’t worry if Bitty wasn’t on _his_ line so often. But Bits is too good to _not_ play with future NHL legend Jacques Laurent!” Shitty ended almost shouting, startling several Pinkberry patrons. Bitty blushed adorably.

“Shitty, shush,” he said. “I haven’t been on Jack’s line all pre-season, you don’t even have to worry about that. I’m lucky not to have been cut yet, in all honesty.”

Shitty frowned. He’d had to cuddle Bitty for hours after that talk with the coaches, drying his tears with kisses and stupid jokes. And after - which Bitty would _never_ find out about - he’d gone to Jack’s room and demanded he start up those checking clinics again. Jack had agreed readily, to Shitty’s surprise, and didn’t take much cajoling at all. It made Shitty proud, just a little.

“I don’t think you guys have to worry too much,” Lardo said around a mouthful of yogurt. “And if he _does_ give you shit, direct him my way and I’ll remind him of the Class Day Incident of 2013.”

“The... _what_?” Bitty asked. Shitty shook his head.

“No one knows, brah, except for Jack and Lardo. Other than my first name, it’s the greatest mystery of the Samwell Men’s Hockey team. What exactly went down between Jay-Z and Lardy-Lards at the Class Day concert of 2013? Ransom is convinced they hooked up, but Holster has money on a full-on fist-fight - that Lardo won, obvi.”

Lardo rolled her eyes. “They’re both fucking idiots. Like I would hook up with _Zimmermann_.”

“But you _would_ fight him,” Shitty pointed out. She shrugged and nodded.

“Occasionally that kid needs someone to kick his ass. But I didn’t. And neither of you will ever know what happened.”

Shitty grinned at Bitty. “ _I_ have money on them making the whole thing up.”

Lardo shrugged, winking at Bitty. “You’ll never know. But it _is_ something I can hold over his head to smack some sense into him, so don’t be afraid to tell him, okay?”

“Thanks, bro,” Shitty said. “I think I will tell him, soon. You sure you don’t want to be a part of that, Bits?”

Bitty shook his head. “I’m fine with Jack knowing, but I’d rather leave that conversation to you two.”

“Okay,” Shitty said, nodding. “Alright. I’m gonna tell Jack. But first, froyo.”  

 

* * *

 

Hazeapalooza was, to be completely honest, an absolute mess.

Bitty - and _God_ did Shitty love him for it - could not grasp the concept of hazing. It's not as if the hockey team did anything that totally crossed boundaries, not like the DKEs, who were rumored to make their pledges fuck holes in the ground or play ookie cookie. Hockey hazing was mostly harmless, and when Shitty was in charge things almost never went too far. Most of the initiates actually had  _fun_ with it.

(Shitty liked to remember Lardo’s initiation, where Bergie and Polly tries to go easy on her because they were afraid of asking a girl to strip down to her undies and shotgun a beer. She did it just to spite them, not breaking eye contact when she smashed the empty can on her head. Shitty nearly wept tears of pride.)

But Bitty, bless him, didn't inherit the wolf pack mentality of wanting others to suffer the way he'd suffered in initiation. It wasn't as if Bitty hadn't done well during his own Hazeapalooza, though he'd been a bit shy about stripping down and kneeling too close to the other guys. But he’d watched some of the other guys embarrass themselves and that was enough for him to want to treat the new Frogs with compassion and tenderness.

If Shitty wasn’t trying to properly initiate the newbies, he might’ve ditched the whole thing just to take Bitty back home and show _him_ some tenderness. _All night long._

But alas, he had a legacy to maintain. And Bitty looked _good_ in those shorts.

Part of Shitty wished he had divided teams differently, so he could spend more time with Bitty in his cute li'l tank top, with his hair poking out from under his bandanna. But Bitty had requested kidnapping Chowder and Shitty desperately wanted to see Derek Nurse’s un-chill face when Shitty showed up in his hazing gear, so he'd sent Jack along with Bitty to make sure kidnapping actually _happened._

On the walk to Nursey’s dorm, Lardo cast him a long, hard look over the top of her sunglasses. “So, you and Bits are pretty serious these days, right? I mean, you haven't slept in your room in weeks.”

Shitty cracked a grin and asked, already knowing the answer, “And how do you know that?”

“Bilius, please,” she scoffed. Shitty rolled his eyes at the name. “You know I haven't slept in _my_ room in a long time. Your room smells rank but whatever rich-boy mattress pad you brought from Andover...best sleep I've gotten in years.”

Shitty wanted to say something rude or funny, but he couldn't bring himself to do anything but grin goofily down at the ground and shrug. “I really like him.”

They swiped into the dorm building and wandered up the stairs, to the third-floor quad Nursey shared with two rugby players and a frat pledge. Shitty shuddered, remembering the quad he'd been forced to share as a Frog. It was part of the reason he'd originally befriended Jack - Jack’s only roommate dropped out three weeks into their first semester, and Shitty unofficially moved in not long after. He didn't realize it until they were brushing teeth side-by-side in their Haus bathroom a year later, but living together when Jack was still healing from rehab and when Shitty was still reeling from his parents’ divorce was probably the best thing that could have happened to either of them.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Lardo said, knocking on Nursey’s door. “I got that. But is it serious? Or are you guys just the cutest fuck-buddies in North America?”

Shitty shrugged. “I think it's getting serious. But I don't want to pressure him or anything, he's not even out back home. We’re seeing how things unfold.”

Lardo nodded, not looking entirely satisfied with the answer. “Alright, but you know we’ve all got your back, right?”

Shitty grinned at her. “Thanks, Lards.”

“Yeah, yeah, just be good to each other. I don't wanna have to choose which one of you I give the shovel talk to,” she said easily, holding up the bag in her hand menacingly. “You _should_ tell Jack, though, when you're ready. He's your best friend and he's, like, not a total dick to Bitty this year.”

Shitty nodded. “I will, soon."

“Good.” She nodded at the door and grinned. “You ready to kidnap a Frog?”

Shitty tightened the bandana around his head and nodded. “Let's do this.”

 

* * *

 

When Jack mentioned that he'd never properly gotten initiated, Shitty cupped his face in his hands and whispered, “You fucker. You beautiful fucker.”

When realization saturated Jack’s beautiful face - That chiseled jaw! Those cutting cheekbones! Those sad, blue, sled-dog eyes! - he tried to back away, but Shitty was hollering for Ransom and Holster before he could even take a step.

“Fair’s fair, Jacques,” he said, poking Jack in the chest. “You're our captain. You gotta lead by example.”

To Shitty’s surprise, Jack didn't fight it, just rolled his eyes and let Holster pull his shirt off. Shitty didn't miss the soft smile he gave Bitty as Bitty argued with Ransom about giving Jack a sweater when they got to Faber.

To be completely honest, seeing Jack kneeling on the ice, half-naked with his hands tied was sort of a wet dream for Shitty. But so was his boyfriend running around in tight shorts and a cut-off shirt, offering the initiates pie and sweaters.

(“The literal, actual fuck, Bits, I said no sweaters.”

“Excuse you, Mr. Knight, but you ain’t the only one runnin’ this shindig.”

“Bitty. Bits. Babe. _No_.”)

Bitty was quickly distracted by the actual Frogs, and Jack managed to sneak away after the initial hubbub. He sat down on one of the benches just off the rink, watching with a goofy grin as Dex and Nursey argued over nothing.

“Initiate Zimmermann,” Shitty said loudly, wandering over and plopping down on Jack’s lap. The Frogs were now performing the Feats of Strength, but Jack had refused to stand up so the others had let him be because, unlike Shitty, they were a little scared of Jack.

“How drunk are you, Shits?” Jack asked, letting Shitty nuzzle into his neck. “You're getting cuddly.”

“I'm not _that_ drunk,” Shitty protested. “Can't a guy cuddle his bro?”

“Is this part of hazing? Because I think you're doing it wrong,” Jack said quietly with that dumb little smile on his face that meant he thought he was being funny. Shitty chuckled and let himself relax against Jack’s chest.

“I wanted to talk to you, brah,” Shitty said, not looking up at Jack. “I'm, um. Seeing someone.”

“Really?” Jack asked, sounding a little surprised. “Oh, um. Congrats?”

“It's Bitty,” Shitty continued, looking over the tops of his aviators to where Bitty was fretting over Chowder. Sensing Shitty’s gaze, he looked back and smiled shyly. With a wink, he snapped a photo of Shitty and Jack with his phone, then turned back to watching the Frogs spin in circles then try and shoot on the goal. Only Chowder had managed a goal so far and Dex looked like he might puke.

“Oh.” Jack stiffened a little, then relaxed. “Um. That's nice.”

Shitty snorted. “Really, Jack? ‘That's nice?’ Really?”

Jack poked him in the ribs, frowning. “I'm happy for you. Both. Do I need to give you a talk on letting this impact your game or…?”

“No, you do not. And I _would_ tell you that's some homophobic bullcrap if I didn't know you give the same speech to any guy who gets a girlfriend during the season.” Shitty smiled, eyes trained on Bitty as he laughed at the antics on the rink. “Please don't go all Anger Issues on Bits this season, okay? I know you're under a lot of pressure, but he's trying his hardest, okay? And he's a hell of a better player than I am, so if you're gonna be a dick, be a dick to _me_ , got it?”

He could feel Jack’s heavy sigh against his neck. “I never apologized for that, did I?”

“Nope,” Shitty said, popping the ‘p.’ “But it's never too late. _Also_ ,” he added, wrapping an arm around Jack’s neck. “You and Cami should double with me and Bits for Screw this year. It'll be like last year, except I’ll actually have my shit together.”

Jack laughed at that, ducking his head against Shitty’s shoulder. “How about we do a dinner, somewhere really nice, maybe even in Boston? My treat.”

“Nah, brother,” Shitty said. “ _My_ treat. Gotta use up the old man’s money before he disowns me.”

“Dutch, then,” Jack said. “Between us.”

“Alright,” Shitty agreed. “Because we _are_ gentlemen and our dates deserve to be properly wined and dined.”

“Yeah.” Jack was silent for a moment, and Shitty was just drunk enough to feel warm and sleepy, curled up against his best friend. “You and Bittle. You're- you guys are happy?”

“Yeah, man,” Shitty said. “He's really great.”

“So are you,” Jack said quietly. “I mean. You're both great. I'm happy that you're happy.”

“Aww, Jack,” Shitty cooed, tightening his grip around Jack’s shoulders. “C’mere you big softy.” Shitty smacked a loud, wet kiss to Jack’s cheek. Nearby, someone giggled.

“Y’all are cute,” Bitty said as he pulled a sweater over Chowder’s head. Once it was on he sent the goalie off to join the others who were getting blindfolded. “But I'm afraid I have to break up this pretty picture. Initiates are being taken back to the Haus for the obstacle challenge.”

“Yesssss,” Shitty hissed, jumping up from Jack’s lap. “Good talk, Jacques Laurent, but now I have some youths to corrupt. Duty calls!”

He smacked Bitty’s ass as he ran by, ignoring the squawk of indignation. Telling people, even if it was just Jack and Lardo, made this thing with Bitty feel real, feel serious. Maybe before long Bitty would want to tell everyone. Maybe this thing was a _real_ thing.

Shitty grinned to himself, then pulled his aviators back on.

“Let's move, pondscum! To the Haus!”

 

* * *

 

As Shitty raced ahead to lead the procession of hockey players, waving his hockey stick like a drum major’s staff, Bitty fell back to lead Jack. Though he couldn’t see Bitty, Jack smiled gratefully in his direction.

“Goodness, it’s too cold to have y’all running around in your undies,” Bitty said, frowning. “I’d offer you a sweater but Holster took them away after I gave Chowder his.”

Jack chuckled. “It’s fine, Bittle. It’s actually pretty balmy out tonight.”

Bitty gasped. “Mr. Zimmermann, it’s _forty_  degrees right now.”

Jack smirked at him and Bitty considered letting him loose and seeing if he fell off the curb. “Bittle, that’s pretty warm for November. Feels good.”

“ _Canadians_ ,” Bitty hissed, shaking his head. “Ridiculous.”

Before long, they were meandering far behind the other boys. Bitty had a sneaking suspicion that Jack was walking slowly on purpose, trying to lose the others.

“You know, we won’t make you do the obstacle course,” Bitty said. “Shitty won’t make you.”

“I know,” Jack said. “Could you take this blindfold off? It’s weird talking to you with it on.”

Bitty hummed in response and pulled the bandana up to rest on Jack’s head. “Don’t tell Shitty I did that, he already thinks I’m the worst at hazing.”

Jack laughed softly. “That’s not a bad thing to be. Plus, if you hadn’t noticed, he’s pretty bad at it, too.”

“Yeah,” Bitty said, biting back a smile. “It’s nice.”

Jack smiled at him. “Shitty told me about you guys. Um. Congrats.”

Bitty ducked his head, cheeks heating up. “Thanks, Jack. I- I mean- It means a lot to have your support.”

“Of course,” Jack said, frowning a little. “You and Shits are two of my closest friends.”

Bitty looked up at Jack, a little stunned. This time last year, Jack Zimmermann had hated his guts. Now they were friends? Close friends?

“Thanks, Jack,” Bitty said again, not meeting his eyes. “I promise this won’t change anything or mess with our game, but if it makes guys in the locker room uncomfortable we can always-”

Jack stopped, forcing Bitty to turn and face him. “Bittle, if any of the guys have a problem with it, they can answer to me. You don’t have to change anything. This isn’t on you.”

Bitty’s throat felt tight and his eyes pricked with warmth. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Jack nodded, and they began walking towards Haus again. “So, Shits was a little too drunk to give me any deets…” Jack began, smirking at Bitty.

“Oh, hush,” Bitty said. “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”

Jack laughed. “Okay, but when did it start? I have to get the details from you, I never know when Shitty’s making stuff up.”

“Um, sort of since May,” Bitty said. “He kissed me right before he left, we talked a lot over the summer, then we just sort of...got together in August.”

“That’s nice,” Jack said, smiling softly. “I’m happy for you guys.”

There was something sad in his eyes, something that Bitty couldn’t place. Maybe he felt that Bitty would replace him in Shitty’s life; Bitty thought this was a laughable idea.

“You know you’re his best friend in the entire world, right?” Bitty asked as they neared the Haus. Jack’s frown quirked up at the edges. “Like, no matter where Shitty and I end up down the road, you’ll always be the most important person to him. He loves you so much.”

“He likes you a lot,” Jack said quietly, giving Bitty an intense look. “You mean a lot to Shits, I can tell. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Bitty chuckled, walking up the steps to the Haus with a half-naked, partially-tied Jack Zimmermann, talking about the most important guy in their lives. “Look at us,” he said, smiling up at Jack. “Just a couple’a big ol’ saps.”

“C’mon, Bittle,” Jack said, nodding at the door. “Let’s see if the Frogs are still alive.”

Bitty’s gasp of terror broke the moment between them, and they wandered into the Haus to watch as Nursey fell down half the flight of stairs, drunk, blindfolded, and naked as the day he was born.  

“College,” Jack murmured, holding back a laugh.

 

* * *

 

It both surprised and didn’t surprise Bitty to see more of Camilla Collins that semester.

He hadn’t realized she and Jack were more than just Screw dates, but that seemed to be Jack’s forte - subtle to the point of secret. He probably wouldn’t know PDA if it bit him in the spectacular ass.

For all Bitty knew, Jack and Camilla had been dating for years. They didn’t hold hands, didn’t cuddle, didn’t kiss in front of anyone, but that seemed appropriate for them. They were private people and Bitty didn’t want to judge their relationship.

Camilla had taken to hanging around the Haus when she had downtime, helping Bitty with his baking or playing Mario Kart with the boys. Lardo flocked to Camilla like a moth to a flame, always making time to hang out when she was around. Bitty thought it was weirdly sweet.

(“She’s just, like, stupidly hot, you know? Of course Zimmermann’s girlfriend is stupidly hot. I hate him.”

“Are you...jealous? I thought you said you would never, ever, ever hook up with Jack?”

“Bitty, are you _listening_ to me? Camilla Collins is the hottest girl I’ve ever met and I would bang that like a screen door in a hurricane if she was at all interested. Fuck Zimmermann. Fuck him.”

“Alright, Lards. Pie?”)

Bitty liked having Camilla around, but something about seeing her with Jack made his heart ache. He wasn’t sure why, until he and Jack started working on their class project.

Bitty had a boyfriend. He had a boyfriend who was sweet and funny and doted on him and danced with him when there wasn’t any music playing and yet Bitty’s heart thumped wildly in his chest as he watched the sunlight stream through his kitchen window and settle on Jack’s smiling face. Jack was rambling about different NHL teams and what he was looking for his rookie year and Bitty had never, ever heard Jack _ramble_ before, looking far too at ease in Bitty’s kitchen in that stained apron, laughing and chatting.

 _Oh_. Bitty stared at Jack, mouth going dry at the mere sight of his carefree smile.

Guilt hit him like a brick wall. He couldn’t have fallen for Jack Zimmermann when he was _dating Shitty_ . He couldn’t have fallen for a _straight boy_ when he already had the heart of a very much _not straight_ boy.

“I, uh.” Bitty cleared his throat and set down his oven mitts. “I forgot, I need to call my mama, excuse me-”

Bitty fled upstairs, eyes burning with unshed tears. Sure, he’d noticed cute boys from time to time, had even flirted a little with one of the young men who’d fixed the A/C at his house in Georgia last summer, but that was normal, meaningless behavior.

He was a little bit in love with his boyfriend’s best friend. And Shitty could never, ever find out.

Bitty took a deep breath and sat down on his bed, pulling Senor Bunny close to his chest.

“Oh, Bun,” he murmured. “I thought getting a boyfriend would put an end to silly, straight-boy crushes. I stopped being careful and now…”

 

Jack came up an hour later to find Bitty curled on his bed, fast asleep, tears drying on his cheeks. He said nothing, but pulled a blanket over Bitty and sent a worried text to Shitty. Downstairs, a pie cooled on the counter, the crust only a little burned.

 

* * *

 

One of the perks of dating Shitty was that, while he was not as sexually experienced as _some_ people (Ransom and Holster) claimed to be, he was enthusiastic and adventurous and made _zero_ assumptions. The first time Bitty and Shitty wound up in bed, half-naked, Shitty had immediately asked if he preferred to top or bottom. Then, after Bitty stammered out his response, Shitty followed with, “Okay, but do you ever wanna switch things up? I’m game for anything, seriously. Well, like, mostly anything. I really gotta draw the line at rape fantasies and, like, anything involving knives. But, like, I’m willing to try anything else at least once.”

Bitty wasn’t really sure what kind of sex involved _knives_ but he kissed Shitty silly for about ten minutes for not assuming anything.

They switched a lot, in the following weeks, and tried to branch out every now and then. It was exciting, exploring different kinks with something as adventurous yet inexperienced as Shitty. Plus, Shitty had this sort of assuredness and gentleness about him that always made Bitty feel safe, in and out of bed. His personality was basically one giant bear hug, and it made Bitty want to hold tight and never let go.

The party downstairs was still raging when Bitty pulled Shitty upstairs, the two of them giggling as they narrowly avoided running into Ransom and the tennis player who was leading him up to the attic. As they disappeared to the third floor, Bitty grabbed Shitty’s hand and pulled him into his room.

Shitty was in one of his more ridiculous party outfits, bandana around his head and jean vest without a shirt underneath, but Bitty liked to consider it easy access as he ran his hands up Shitty’s chest. He, himself, was wearing a pair of _incredibly_ tight jeans, because - unlike _some_ people - he actually felt the cold and couldn’t wear the tiny shorts he wanted to.

“You wanna fuck me tonight?” Bitty asked without preamble. He had three beers in his bloodstream and he was feeling warm and loose and energetic. Shitty grinned and hoisted Bitty back onto the bed.

“Always, brah,” he said, pressing loud, messy kisses to Bitty’s face.

“What have I said about calling me bro-names in bed?” Bitty asked, squirming as Shitty’s mustache tickled his neck.

“That it's too locker-room for you.” Shitty smirked down at him. “I’m sorry, Bits, but pet names only sound cute coming from _you_. They make me sound like someone’s creepy uncle when I say ‘em.”

It was true, unfortunately. Shitty couldn’t say “sweetheart” or “sugar” without the average person wanting to punch him in the face. He could sometimes get away with “babe,” but was usually only when he was talking to Jack.

“Well, at least _try_ to keep ‘em to a minimum,” Bitty said, pressing a kiss to Shitty’s collar bone. “Please?”

Shitty turned them so they were both lying on their sides. “Oh, _alright_ ,” he said, nuzzling his nose against Bitty’s neck. “I’ll try for you, Bits.”

“You could call me Eric, you know,” Bitty said, pecking Shitty’s nose. “Literally no one else does, except for my professors and people outside of the hockey team.”

“That’s...actually a lot of people,” Shitty said with a laugh. “And if this is a weird bid at calling me _Brad-_ ”

“I would _never_.”

Shitty grinned and kissed the indignant look off of Bitty’s face. “Okay, _Eric_. Wow, that sounds weird. Eric, Eric, EricEricEric- not Bitty. Eric.” Shitty nodded, lips pursed. “Okay, yeah, think I got it. Eric.”

“Mhmm,” Bitty hummed, pushing the vest off Shitty’s shoulders. “Sure, honey. Take your pants off.”

“Eric,” Shitty said, using his best “stern father” voice. “We need to work on your sweet talking.”

Bitty rolled his eyes. “Take your pants off... _big boy_.”

“Yeah, no, we’ll work on it.” Shitty pushed down his pants and kicked them across the room. “Wanna suck you,” he said, fingers playing with the fly of Bitty’s ridiculously tight jeans.

“Mm, yeah,” Bitty said, lifting his hips up to help Shitty pull down his pants. It took a little extra maneuvering -  how did he even get these  _on_? - but soon they joined Shitty’s pants on the floor.

“You taste like cinnamon,” Shitty said, nuzzling his nose under Bitty’s shirt, licking a stripe above the band of his briefs. “Not being poetic, did you _bathe_ in it or something?”

Bitty snorted. “No, Nursey spilled Fireball on my shirt earlier. Guess I didn’t wash it off as well as I thought.”

“Okay, but _could_ you bathe in cinnamon?” Shitty asked, kissing up Bitty’s chest as he peeled the shirt off. “It’s a lot tastier than sweat.”

Bitty gave him a wicked grin. “Only if I get to give you a whipped-cream bikini again.”

Shitty grinned, remembering that very fun but _very messy_ night. Bitty nearly died with laughter when Holster asked who finished off the Reddi-Wip the next day. “Anything you want, B- Eric. See? I’m getting better at that.”

Bitty rolled his eyes but smiled. “Lube’s under the bed, I think. I didn’t bother to find it after last night.”

Nearly falling right off the bed, Shitty hung over the edge to find the little bottle where it sat abandoned and half-used. When he pulled himself back up, Bitty had lost his underwear, cock hard and bobbed back against his stomach. Shitty’s mouth went dry; it was a sight he’d never get used to.

“God, you’re hot,” he said, stomach turning at the way Bitty blushed. “For real, Bits, you’re like...if tiny Chris Evans from Captain America had a love-child with that claymation elf from _Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer_ -”

“Shitty, that’s _not_ a compliment-”

“-who then, like, fucking _owned_ puberty and got a six-pack and dressed all snazzy-”

“-okay, that’s a _little_ better-”

“-kinda like the gay kid from _High School Musical-_ ”

“-his name is Ryan and I’m insulted again- _oh_.”

Shitty licked up the length of Bitty’s cock, smirking as Bitty’s head fell back against his pillow. “You like that, Eric?”

Bitty nodded, whining and jerking his hips up as Shitty moved away to uncap the lube. “Nngh- Shitty, I swear-”

Shitty ducked down to suck at the tip of Bitty’s dick, tongue swirling around the head in a way that made Bitty groan and grip at the sheets. Bitty gasped as Shitty took in more of him, sucking until his cheeks hollowed out and Bitty was begging for more.

“Fuck,” Bitty breathed, threading his fingers through Shitty’s hair. “That’s so- ngh, so good, hun.”

Shitty sank down further and Bitty hummed with pleasure, running his fingers over Shitty’s face, tracing the stretch of his lips.

“Fuck me,” Bitty whispered, biting his lip as Shitty pulled off with a small ‘pop.’ “Want you inside me, like, yesterday.”

“As you wish,” Shitty said in a weirdly posh accent. “Get it, like, _Princess Bride_ -?”

“Mhmm, yeah, less chit chat, more finger- ah! _Cold_!”

Shitty squirted lube liberally around Bitty’s hole, aware that Bitty would give him hell for how much he’d spilled on the sheets. Shitty pressed the tip of one finger in slowly, amazed when it slid to the first knuckle with ease.

“Did you prep already?” He asked, half incredulous, half _really turned on_. “When?”

“When you were getting your ass kicked at flip cup,” Bitty answered, spreading his legs wider. “C’mon, hurry up, chop chop.”

“So bossy,” Shitty breathed, working Bitty open as quickly as he comfortably could. The longer he went, the more impatient Bitty got, writhing and letting out little mewls of moans, and by the time he was open and slick, Shitty was on the edge of losing his damn mind.

“Shit, Bits, Eric, _fuck_ , you’re ridiculous, you know that?” Shitty wiped his hands off on the sheets - Bitty glared at him - and tore open a condom wrapper. “The way you look right now, it’s a fucking miracle I have come yet.”

Bitty huffed, hair matted to his forehead with sweat, cheeks flushed and pink. “Sweet talk gets you nowhere if you don’t get that dick inside me right- _ah_.”

Shitty pushed into him in increments, slowly working until he was all the way in. Bitty grunted and shifted, letting himself adjust to Shitty’s girth. “Hun, move a little, yeah.”

Shitty pulled out slowly, then pushed back in. He continued this rhythm, speeding up little by little as Bitty stretched out. “God, B-Eric, fuck,” he murmured, running his hands and down Bitty’s sides. “Shit, you’re so tight.”

“Faster,” Bitty groaned, leaning his head back to hit Shitty’s shoulder.  

Shitty sped his pace just a little, working up to the speed he knew drove Bitty wild. It was sloppy and the din of the party below made Bitty’s head ache, but he loved being with Shitty, loved everything about being with Shitty.

Bitty reached back and tugged at Shitty’s hair, pulling him close so his chest was flush with Bitty’s back. Shitty sped up, slamming into Bitty faster and faster. Bitty whined one hand jerking himself messily, reaching closer and closer to the edge.

“ _Fuck,”_ Shitty groaned, moving growing more erratic and jerkier as he got close. “Shit, fuck, m’gonna- _Jack-”_

For a split second, Bitty thought Jack had walked in on them again, but when he turned his head he could see the was still closed and locked. As Shitty twitched behind him, the heat of release apparent even through the condom, Bitty came to a realization.

“Shitty?” He whispered, gasping a little as Shitty pulled out. “Why-?”

But Shitty wouldn't look at him, mortification plain on his face. “Ah, fuck, shit, Bitty, I-” he stammered as he tied off the condom and chucked it in the direction of the trash can. “I didn't- I. _Fuck_. I'm sorry.”

He had his pants on in a matter of seconds, underwear still hanging off of Bitty’s desk chair, and he shouted an apology once more as he grabbed his shirt and stumbled down the stairs.

“What?” Bitty - still hard and covered in sweat and lube - asked the empty room. “Wait-”

The front door slammed downstairs. Shitty was gone.

Bitty was torn, unsure if he should go after Shitty or give him space. In the end, he decided on space, primarily because he was in _no_ position to go out in public. With a sigh, Bitty hobbled into the bathroom and took a long shower, jerking himself off and scrubbing away the remnants of his night. The floor of the bathroom shook from the music downstairs and when Bitty got back to his room he knew he wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon. Biting at his lip, Bitty grabbed his phone and shot off a text to Shitty before he lost his nerve.

_Hey, where r u? I think we need to talk_

The reply was almost instantaneous:

_pond_

Pulling on clothes as fast as he could, Bitty was down the stairs in a flash, pushing his way through the crowd. Holster tried to stop him, maybe chirp him for his wet hair and new clothes, but Bitty ignored him to slip out the front door, hand tightly clutching his phone in his pocket.

It was much colder out than Bitty had remembered, or maybe he was just more sober than he had been earlier that evening. Campus was oddly quiet for a Friday night, though he assumed half the student body was currently at the Haus in his living room. He only passed by a couple clumps of people stumbling along to their next party, mostly alone on his walk to the pond.

He could see Shitty from a distance, curled up on a bench by the water. He looked cold in his hoodie, though he’d probably never admit it. Bitty was almost certain he wasn't wearing shoes.

“Sweetheart, you’re gonna freeze out here,” he said as he approached the bench. Shitty didn’t look up, face contorted with regret.

“I’m so, so sorry, Bits,” he whispered. “I swear I didn’t- I wouldn’t- _fuck_.”

Bitty sat down on the bench next to Shitty, wincing at the cold bite of the metal through his jeans. “Darlin’, would you look at me?”

Shitty looked up slowly, fists clenched on his knees. Bitty wanted to kiss the frown off his face, but held back. This was...this was not a position he’d ever expected to be in.

“Look, hun,” Bitty said, drawing his knees to his chest. “I'm not gonna say I'm not hurt. No one likes to hear someone else's name in the middle of sex.” Shitty buried his face in his hands and Bitty’s heart ached. “But it's not like...well it's not like he's your ex or something. So I guess I'm mostly...curious?” He bit his lip. “Concerned?”

Shitty sighed and sat up a little straighter, running a hand through his hair. His eyes were puffy and red, like he'd been crying. When he spoke, his voice was the softest Bitty had ever heard it. “I've been in love with Jack since freshman year.”

The look of resignation on his face was heartbreaking. Cautiously, Bitty reached out and took his hand. “Yeah, I...he's something else, isn't he?”

This didn't seem to be the response Shitty had expected. He gave Bitty a stunned look, turning his hand to lace their fingers together.

“How long-?” He asked, eyes searching Bitty’s face for- well, _something._ Maybe a lie, or pity, or both.

“I'm not sure,” Bitty admitted with a shrug. “Only realized it recently.”

Shitty chuckled, shaking his head. “We’re quite a pair, huh?” Then, more quietly. “You're not breaking up with me?”

“No, sweetheart, no,” Bitty said, leaning his head on Shitty’s shoulder. “Unless you're cheatin’ on me with Mr. Zimmemann-”

“I wouldn't,” Shitty said quickly. “I wouldn't do that to you, Bits.”

Bitty smiled, nestling in closer. “Not even with Jack?” He teased.

Shitty pulled away, cupping Bitty’s face in both hands and leaning their foreheads together. “No, Bits, _never.”_

There was an intensity in those green eyes that Bitty rarely saw outside of political (and, to be honest, hockey-related) rants, so Bitty leaned in to peck his lips and said, “Well, alrighty then. C’mon, it's colder’n a witch’s tit out here, let's go home.”

Shitty stood with him, letting Bitty take his hand and lead him up the path back towards Frat Row. It excited Bitty, being able to hold hands with his _boyfriend_ in public, even if there was no one else around. It was something he’d wanted for a long, long time. Something ached in his chest, so he took a deep breath and squeezed Shitty’s hand.

“Since we’re being honest with each other,” he said, eyes cast down at his shoes. “I...wanted to talk to you about possibly...maybe...telling the team? About us? If you want?”

Shitty stopped walking, eyes growing wide. “Really?”

Bitty felt his face burn. “I mean, only if you want to. We don’t have to. I just thought...I’m really happy with you, Shits, and I’d like to share that. But we don’t have to.”

Shitty’s mouth was on his in a flash, hands cupping Bitty’s neck. “I do. I do want. A lot.”

“Tomorrow, then?” Bitty asked, playing with the strings of Shitty’s hoodie. “Once everyone’s recovered?”

“Fuck yeah!” Shitty said, wrapping his arms around Bitty’s waist. “I’d tell ‘em tonight if I thought any of them would remember this in the morning.”

“Mm, not tonight,” Bitty said, nipping at Shitty’s chin. “Want you all to myself tonight.”

Shitty grimaced. “I left you hangin’ tonight, didn't I?”

Bitty sucked at his jaw, hands roaming underneath the hoodie. “Quite literally. But it's okay, I really just want to wrap myself up in you and go to sleep.”

Shitty pressed his face into Bitty’s wet hair, breathing in deeply. “I can do that,” he said. “Jeez, I think your hair is freezing up, let's get you snuggled in bed, eh?”

Any other night, Bitty would've chirped Shitty for sounding like Jack. Instead, he tugged on Shitty’s hand, pulling him home. “Only with my favorite space heater.”

The party was still raging as Bitty and Shitty returned. Lardo raised an eyebrow at them, smiling at their joined hands. Holster, drunk off his ass, scooped them both in a giant hug for a solid minute, then stumbled away to harass April and Farmer.

On the second floor landing, Jack was just returning to his room from grabbing a glass of water. He smiled at them awkwardly, waving a tired goodnight. Shitty’s grip on Bitty’s hand tightened, but Bitty just pulled him into his bedroom with a soft smile.

Shitty fell asleep almost immediately, stripped down and wrapped around Bitty like an octopus. Bitty laid awake for a long time that night, breathing in the scent of Shitty’s shampoo and wondering what it would feel like to have Jack Zimmermann pressed up against his other side.

 

* * *

 

“So, basically, what Shitty and I want to tell everyone - and please know this won’t change anything with the team dynamic or anything, I _promise-_ ”

Shitty wrapped his arm around Bitty’s shoulder and said, “Bits and I are dating.”

“ _What?!_ ” Holster shouted. “Since _when_?”

“Ha, called it!” Ransom said with a grin. “Knew something was going on with you two.”

Chowder grinned up at them. “Congrats! That’s ‘swawesome - _oh!_ You guys gotta come on a double-date with me and Farmer! That would be so fun!”

Bitty smiled down at Chowder, hand over his heart. “Oh, Sugar, we’d love to-”

“Gross,” Lardo deadpanned, examining her nails. “I object to this.”

Shitty grinned at her. “Shut the fuck up, Lards, you’ve known all semester.”

“ _YOU TOLD LARDO AND NOT ME? BITS, MAN, WHAT THE FUCK-”_

Jack grinned up at them. “Why break the silence now?” He asked. Holster huffed dramatically, voice going up an octave.

“ _JACK KNEW TOO-?”_

Bitty shrugged, leaning against Shitty’s chest. “We didn’t want to say anything until we saw where it was going. But now we know it’s going somewhere good. So...”

Shitty kissed the top of his head and Holster and Ransom _aww_ -ed in unison, making kissy noises. Lardo mimed throwing up, Jack smiled awkwardly, and Chowder cooed. Nursey and Dex offered congratulations, only momentarily distracted from their latest feud, and Camilla stared at them.

“Wait…” She said slowly, brow furrowed. “I thought you were dating Lardo.”

“Nope!” Lardo said a little too cheerfully.

“Oh.” Camilla looked stunned but not unhappy about the news. “Oh, well, then, congrats! You guys are cute together.”

“Thanks,” Bitty said softly. Camilla gave him a knowing look, then elbowed Jack in the ribs. He gave her an oddly sad smile.

“So _that’s_ why Bits wouldn’t let us set him up for Screw,” Holster said.

“One of the many reasons, I assure you,” Bitty deadpanned.

“Alright, alright, we’ve said our bit,” Shitty said, propping his chin on top of Bitty’s head. “And we’re seriously grateful for the support. So now, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna take my sweet southern belle upstairs and tear all his clothes off.”

“Does that count as a pet name?” Holster shouted as Shitty pulled Bitty up the stairs.

“FOOIIIIINE!” Ransom screamed, scaring Chowder off of the couch.

“It’s all gonna be different now,” Bitty murmured, pausing at the top of the steps. “Now that the team knows.”

Shitty shrugged. “They’ve got our backs. I’d say that’s a good kinda different.”

Bitty smiled. “Yeah. It is.”

 

* * *

 

Shitty offered his arm to Bitty theatrically as they climbed out of the Uber. Bitty laughed and took it, straightening up and moving out of Camilla’s way.

“Jack, be a gentleman,” Shitty chastised with a teasing grin. Jack rolled his eyes but offered his arm to Camilla, who took it with a bubbly laugh.

“How chivalrous,” she said. “This place looks great, boys.”

The restaurant had come recommended by Alicia, who'd spent a good hour of her monthly mother-son Skype date grilling Shitty about his new boyfriend. She'd eventually given them the name of the restaurant, emphasizing its private alcoves and romantic atmosphere.

“Your father took me there once, after a hard loss against the Bruins,” she said, the tone of her voice hardening as if she still bore a grudge against the opposing team. “It was...a wonderful night.”

There had been a beat of silence before Shitty burst out in laughter and Jack buried his face in his hands.

“Supposedly it's the tits,” Shitty said to Camilla. “And it got the Zimmermanns laid so I'm hoping it works its magic on us tonight.”

Jack groaned loudly and Camilla laughed. “Sweetheart,” Bitty chastised, frowning at Shitty. “Stop it. You sound like you're propositioning them for a foursome.”

“I mean, I wouldn't be opposed-”

“Let's eat dinner, eh?” Jack almost shouted, pushing past into the restaurant with Camilla.

By the time they were seated, the blush on Jack’s face had almost faded. Using his most adult and incredibly snooty Bradford Knight III voice, Shitty ordered a bottle of Malbec for the table. It was done with such authority that their waiter did not bother to ask for Bitty’s ID.

“I brought a flask in case they did,” Shitty murmured to Bitty. “But that's a trick I learned back at Andover. If you're paying good money and you act like a forty-year-old business man, no one will question you.”

Bitty shook his head and took a sip of his malbec. “We had very different high school experiences.”

“Ooh, Jack,” Camilla said, slapping Jack on the arm. “They have spaghetti alla carbonara.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “That's not in your meal plan.”

Camilla rolled her eyes and shot him an endeared grin. “I'm a college athlete, Jack, not a future NHL player. I think I can cheat.”

Jack laughed, and looked so at ease among the three of them that Shitty felt his heart swell.

“Oh, gosh,” Bitty said, running his fingers over the menu reverently. “It's all in Italian. This place is so fancy.”

Shitty felt a little pang of guilt at that. He'd grown up going out to eat at restaurants of a higher caliber than this, every birthday and anniversary and holiday. Next to him, Jack looked similarly ashamed.

“Ooh, we have to get dessert,” Camilla said, touching Bitty’s hand. “I bet nothing they make is as good as your baking.”

“Oh, stop,” Bitty said. “Ooh, what is that, it sounds _divine_.”

Shitty’s heart skipped a beat when he realized that he wanted to take Bitty to every restaurant in Boston, let him try hibachi and tapas and all the things he’d never had before. He looked so excited here, drinking wine and poring over the menu like it held a whole new world in its pages.

“So, Shitty,” Camilla said, sipping at her wine delicately. “Jack tells me you've applied to law school.”

“Yeah, glad as fuck that's over,” he said. “Law school’s gonna be a bitch, if I get into any of them, but if I can get out there and help people, it'll be worth it, y’know?”

“Of _course_ you'll get in, honey,” Bitty said with a frown. “You're the smartest person I know.”

“Aww.” Shitty leaned over to kiss Bitty, quick and soft. It sent a thrill through him that he _could_ do this, kiss Bitty in public without worrying. “Thanks, babe.”

When he looked back up, Camilla was whispering something in Jack’s ear. He seemed to visibly loosen, and offered Shitty and Bitty a tentative smile.

“Oh, wow, I just realized…” Camilla said, sitting up a bit straighter. “Shitty and Bitty - you guys rhyme! It’s like a match made in heaven!”

Bitty groaned and sank his head against Shitty’s shoulder. Shitty barked with laughter, as did Jack. “One of us has to change our name,” Bitty said, words muffled by Shitty’s arm. “We can’t _rhyme_.”

“Okay... _Dicky_ ,” Shitty said with a smirk. Bitty gasped, looking utterly affronted.

“Don’t you dare,” Bitty hissed. “ _Brad-_ ”

“Okay, okay!” Shitty laughed, covering Bitty’s mouth with his hand. It didn’t really matter - Jack already knew his name and Camilla was too cool to chirp him _too_ much - but it was the _principle_ of things. “Oh, hey, our waiter, let’s order.”

At Shitty’s insistence, they ordered several appetizers to soak up their wine - calamari, bruschetta, everything Bitty had been eyeing - and went ahead with their main entrees. Jack ordered something boring and relatively healthy, and the others got pastas of all sorts. Shitty deliberated over the squid-ink linguine (“Bits, it looks like the food of _nightmares_!”) but figured Bitty would refuse to kiss him for the rest of the night if he stained his teeth black so early on.

By his third glass of wine, Shitty was feeling warm and loose, arm draped across the back of Bitty’s chair. Bitty was smiling freely, chatting with Camilla about her last tennis match. Jack was watching them with soft, adoring eyes. It made Shitty’s heart pound uncomfortably in his chest.

“Oh, gosh,” Bitty said softly. Shitty shook himself from his thoughts to see that their food had arrived. Bitty was staring at his pumpkin gnocchi with a loving, passionate gaze Shitty rarely saw outside of the bedroom. It made him smile.

“This looks fantastic,” Camilla said, eyeing her own dish. “I’m gonna have to run 10k tomorrow to burn all this off.”

“No sports talk!” Shitty declared, brandishing his fork at the others. “Tonight's a night of indulgence! Of good food, good booze, and good company! I don’t want to hear anymore about meal plans, burning calories, or how fuckin’ spectacular our season has been so far. Bits, my guy, my main squeeze, my beautiful, pie-baking Haus-husband- how is that gnocchi treating you?”

Bitty looked up at him with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. “This...this is the greatest thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

Shitty cackled. Camilla snorted. Jack choked on his water.

Bitty looked down and bit his lip, realizing what he'd said. Shitty hooked his ankle around Bitty’s and pulled their legs flush together. “You want a taste of mine?” He asked, waggling his eyebrows, his tone as lecherous as possible.

Camilla almost shrieked with laughter and Jack buried his face in his hands. Bitty glared at him for the insinuation but accepted the proffered food nonetheless, his cheeks bright and rosy, and Shitty knew he was very much in love with this boy.

 

* * *

 

This Winter Screw was, in so many ways, very much like the year before. Jack and Camilla were in the corner, quietly making fun of Ransom and Holster, Ollie and Wicks were trying very hard to disassociate themselves with the hockey team while they talked to several girls, and Bitty was by Shitty’s side.

In all the ways that mattered, though, Screw was different. Bitty was there as his date - _real_ date - and holding his hand as they pushed through the crowd to the punchbowl. They were both a hell of a lot more sober this year, driven by the promise of a different kind of _screw_ at the end of the night, and they were out and open to the team. Shitty wrapped both arms around Bitty’s waist from behind as Bitty grabbed two cups of punch, and they laughed and waddled back like that to where Jack and Camilla stood.

“I’m surprised Bittle isn’t making you dance,” Jack said, stealing Shitty’s punch. He took one sip, made a face when realized Shitty had spiked it, and handed it back. “Why would you mix Jack Daniels with fruit punch?”

“Because life isn’t worth living without a little adventure,” Shitty replied, resting his chin on Bitty’s head. “And they’re not playing Beyonce yet, so Bits is conserving his strength.”

Camilla was much drunker than she’d been last year, and she and Bitty were holding hands and whispering to each other, occasionally looking up at Shitty and giggling. Bitty had a tipsy flush on his cheeks, and his lips were punch-stained and very, very kissable. Shitty bit the inside of his cheek and dropped a kiss to the top of Bitty’s head.

“‘Sup, losers.”

Lardo had appeared at Shitty’s side and was digging through his pocket to find his flask. With a grin, he freed one arm from Bitty’s waist to wrap around Lardo’s shoulders, pulling her close. Bitty and Lardo both took this in stride, smiling at each other. Lardo took Bitty’s other hand and drained Shitty’s flask in one long pull.

“That was rude, Lards,” he said. She shrugged and shoved the flask back into his pocket.

Jack eyed them all with amusement, hands shoved into his own pockets. “So, I see Chowder’s date is going well,” he said, winking at Shitty. Shitty bit back a grin.

“What? Where are they?” Bitty tore around, nearly butting Shitty in the face. “I have to see them.”

“Over there,” Jack said, nodding across the room to where Chowder and his date, Caitlin, were dancing and laughing. Chowder had very specifically matched his tie to Caitlin’s dress, like they were going to prom or something, and Bitty had both hands over his heart.

“Oh, gosh, look how precious they are! Would it be weird to take a picture? I want to take a picture.”

Shitty let go of Lardo to reel Bitty back in, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Nah, brah, leave ‘em be. Imagine if Johnson took a bunch of creeper photos of us last year. Supes awkward.”

Bitty gave him a measured look. “Honey...Johnson _did_ take creeper photos of us at Screw last year. He texted them to me, saying he thought we were adorable in this universe and that we’d want them to ‘commemorate this divergence from canon.’ Did he not send them to you?”

“What?” Shitty thought he might be pouting. “No!”

Bitty shrugged. “Maybe he knew it might weird you out. I mean, it _was_ just a platonic date…”

“Right, because you believed Ransom and Holster when they said I was holding out for Lardo,” Shitty said with a laugh. Lardo mimed throwing up, which made Camilla laugh brightly. “That surprised me, you know, I didn’t think anyone had told you I was bi.”

To his surprise, Bitty’s face turned a brilliant shade of red. “Oh, no, they hadn’t, I...um...I thought Lardo was a guy until I met her.”

Shitty couldn’t help but laugh. “Really?”

Bitty shrugged, looking embarrassed. “Do you remember how I stopped hanging around the Haus for a while last semester?”

“Yeah,” Shitty said, nodding. “It sucked. I thought I’d done something wrong.”

Bitty shook his head. “I, uh. Once I met Lardo I realized I’d just made assumptions and I was super, really, incredibly embarrassed. And I had such a huge crush on you, I couldn’t stand to hang around the Haus if you guys were gonna be together.”

“Aw, Bits,” Lardo said, bumping him with her hip. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it was entirely my fault for ever listening to Ransom and Holster,” Bitty said, looking down at his feet. “But I guess I’m glad I did. It all worked out in the end.”

“Chyeah it did,” Lardo said, punching his shoulder. She was swaying a little, clearly the drunkest of them all, but her words were clear when she eyed Camilla and said, “Collins. You gonna hold up the wall all night or you wanna dance?”

Camilla grinned and pushed off the wall by Jack’s side to grab Lardo’s arm. “Let’s dance,” she said, turning back to wink at the boys.

Jack seemed perfectly fine with losing his date. He leaned down to whisper something in her ear, and she nodded quickly. Then she and Lardo were disappearing into the crowd, and Jack was slipping his jacket back on.

“I’m turning in for the night,” he said to Shitty and Bitty. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Since his confession, Bitty had been a little fidgety, hands roaming across Shitty’s back, lingering on his hips. He had a familiar look in his eye, gnawing on his bottom lip and casting Shitty glances from under his eyelashes.

“We’ll walk you home,” Shitty said, grabbing Bitty’s hand. Bitty nodded vigorously.

Jack eyed them both like he knew exactly what they were thinking, but smiled all the same. “Thanks, guys.”

Shitty shrugged and pulled Bitty along as they left the party. “Your ass is, like, super valuable, my brother. As is the rest of you. You’re worth a whole lot to a whole lotta people. Bits and I are your bodyguards now, we gotta escort you across this very dangerous campus.”

Bitty giggled, hanging onto Shitty’s arm with both hands. “We’ll protect you from the superfans, Jack.”

Jack looked down at Bitty with fond amusement. “I feel much better now, thank you, Bittle.”

“What about me?” Shitty asked, gasping. “I see how it is, you love Bitty more. I’m wounded, Jacques. _Wounded_.”

“You’ll recover,” Jack said dryly.

Shitty winked at Bitty, then held his hand to his ear like he had an headset in. “Roger that. _Get down, Mr. President!_ ”

Before Jack could react, Shitty charged and tackled him, catching him just under the ribs. They both flew into a snowbank, landing heavily on the tamped-down ice and slush. Bitty gasped and ran over to help them up.

“ _Ohmygosh_ ,” he breathed, leaning over the snowbank. “Jack, are you okay?!”

“I see how it is,” Shitty huffed. “Even my boyfriend loves Jack Zimmermann more than me. That’s fine. I understand.”

Bitty snorted and pulled Jack to his feet, ignoring Shitty’s theatrics. “Jack, did that idiot hurt you?”

Jack smiled softly down at Bitty as he brushed slush from Jack’s suit. “I’m fine, Bittle. But, as my bodyguard, you’re going to have to keep him away from me for the rest of the night.”

Bitty grinned, squeaking a little as Jack slung an arm around his shoulders. “Bye, Shitty!” He called, only sounding a little breathless. “Have fun freezing to death!”

Shitty hauled himself up and jogged after them, ignoring the ice sliding down the back of his shirt. Bitty looked like he belonged cuddled up next to Jack Zimmermann, slight frame and golden hair a stark contrast to Jack’s girth and icy complexion. The sight of them took Shitty’s breath away.

These were the men he loved. These were the men he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, no matter the capacity.

It was a stunning realization, but instead of gripping Shitty in a panic, it engulfed him like warm water, comforting and quiet. Smiling to himself, Shitty took Bitty’s hand and walked alongside them, listening to their soft, sweet banter all the way home.

When they reached the second floor landing of the Haus, Jack pulled away from Bitty and cleared his throat. It felt like a spell had been broken, bringing them all back to the real world.

With a sighed "Goodnight," Jack cast them one long, last look before disappearing into his room, and maybe it was the wine and growing arousal and the jittery, wonderful boyfriend by his side, but Shitty was almost certain he saw longing in Jack’s eyes.

“Huh,” Shitty said. “That's...new.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Get down, Mr. President” is a game I’ve always wanted to play but would probably die playing. Also, let it be known that getting tackled into a snowbank IS NOT FUN. I KNOW YOU’RE READING THIS EMILY. I SEE YOU. AND I REMEMBER.
> 
> please let me know if you're enjoying this or [reblog on tumblr!](http://eve-baird.tumblr.com/post/151670234057/did-somebody-say-jackshitbits-w-a-side-of) :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is blessedly shorter than the last, but a trillion times more dramatic. I'm not 100% happy with it, but I really just can't look at this chapter anymore so...
> 
> TW: description of a panic attack, unenthusiastic coming out (not being outed but also...feeling obligated to come out...sort of?), a non-consensual kiss

Things were different when Bitty returned from Georgia.

Shitty was still a loving, doting boyfriend — that much hadn’t changed. He held Bitty’s hand as they trudged through the snow across campus and gave Bitty good-luck kisses in the storage closet before games and avoided the topic of graduation altogether. They were good, they were solid, but Shitty...Shitty was different.

The first week back, Bitty chalked it up to Shitty spending the entirety of winter break with his father’s side of the family. But two weeks went by and Shitty didn’t laugh when Holster wiped out on the icy sidewalk, didn’t come home from classes ranting about the sexist turds he called classmates, didn’t smile when Bitty made his favorite strawberry cream pie. He was quiet and withdrawn, dark circles permanently sagging under his eyes. It was starting to get worrisome.

In all that time, Bitty talked to Jack maybe twice. And he was starting to realize that was the problem. Jack was avoiding them. Jack was avoiding _Shitty_.

It hurt, a little, to know that Jack was avoiding him, but Bitty had only been real, true friends with Jack for a semester. Before that, he’d been an expert at avoiding _Jack_. But Shitty had latched onto Jack almost four years ago and, from what Bitty knew, they’d been inseparable since then.

Though no one seemed to know what, exactly, was going on, everyone on the team seemed to sense the off putting distance that had grown between Jack and Shitty.   

The last time Bitty had really, truly seen Jack and Shitty interact had been at Epikegster, back before break. He wasn’t sure if something had happened then or during a conversation over break, but Bitty knew that the events of the party would haunt him for a long, long time.

* * *

Epikegster 2k14  


_Bitty watched as Kent Parson slipped from the Haus, hands clenched into fists, tears pooled in his eyes. Scanning the room frantically, Bitty knew before he even finished that Jack was not downstairs._

_Excusing himself from the conversation he'd been having with a very drunk Dex (who had been listing into his side and ranting about rich people or lacrosse players or something), Bitty pushed his way through the throng of dancing students, searching out the one person who’d know what to do._

_Bitty let out a small breath of relief when he found Shitty on the porch, laughing at something Ransom and Holster were saying.  “Shitty, I need you upstairs,” Bitty said, tugging on Shitty’s arm. Shitty grinned at him, eyes glassy, and slung an arm around his neck._

_“Oooh,” Ransom and Holster chorused. “Get it, Bits!”_

_Bitty didn’t respond to them, just pulled Shitty away from the pong table. “Brah,” Shitty said, then corrected himself. “Bits. Eric. Babe. What’s up? Last I saw you were hitting on Parse.”_

_He winked, joking, but Bitty shook his head, too distracted to correct him. “It’s Jack.”_

_“Fuck,” Shitty said at Bitty’s tone. “Did he-? He didn’t punch Parse, did he?”_

_“No,” Bitty whispered, looking to make sure no one was paying attention to them. “They had a fight, a bad one, I think.I didn’t hear it, but I went upstairs to see if Jack was in his room and I heard... I think...I think…” Bitty bit his lip. “I think Jack might be having a panic attack. I don’t know what to do.”_

_Those were the magic words. Abruptly, Shitty grabbed Bitty’s hand and pulled him up the stairs. He didn’t bother knocking on Jack’s door, just headed straight into his own. There was a squawk as Lardo choked on a pull of the joint Camilla held out for her - “Shitty, the fuck-?” - but Shitty just waved them off and pulled Bitty into the bathroom, closing the door behind them._

_Before Shitty opened the door to Jack’s room, he turned to Bitty. “Okay, look, he might not want you there. If I give you a signal, please go back down to the party.” Bitty nodded, eyes darting towards the closed door. “Don’t touch him until I do, he doesn’t like to be touched in the middle of an attack. I might have to snuggle the shit out of him after, he sometimes gets a little huggy once he’s come down, and I don’t know if he-.”_

_“Shits,” Bitty said quietly. “Hun. It’s okay. You’re his best friend. I’m just...me. He’ll want you, I get it.” He looked at the door again, frowning. “I just want him to be okay.”_

_Shitty leaned down and kissed the top of Bitty’s head. “Love you, Bits.”_

_Cautiously, Shitty pushed the door open and peeked inside. When Bitty peered over his shoulder, he gasped._

_Jack was slumped against his bedroom door, hands shaking, chest heaving, eyes screwed shut. Bitty had never seen a panic attack before and it was...alarming, to say the least. The image of Jack hunched over and crying was so horrifically different than how he’d been not an hour before, holding up the wall with Bitty and regaling him with tales of chasing off LAX bros._

_With the exception of Jack’s anger issues during Bitty’s freshman year, Bitty had never really witnessed the effects of Jack’s anxiety before. His instinct was to drop to the ground and wrap his arms around Jack, but he heeded Shitty’s words and fell back, letting Shitty take the lead._

_“Hey, Jack, it’s me,” Shitty said softly, kneeling down a few feet away from where Jack was curled against the door. “Do you want me to help you?”_

_Jack nodded once, movements jerky and tense. Shitty scooted a little closer._

_“Bitty’s with me, too. Do you want him to leave?”_

_After a moment of quick, shallow breaths, Jack shook his head. Bitty moved a little further into the room, crouching down behind Shitty._

_“Okay, Jack, I need you to breathe with me. Five seconds in, seven seconds hold, nine seconds release, you know the drill.”_

_Shitty took a deep breath and Jack followed suit. Without a word, Shitty reached out and began tapping out seconds against Jack’s arm: five seconds as they breathed in, seven as they held their breaths, and then nine as they slowly exhaled. They did this several more times until Jack’s hyperventilation became normal breathing. The tremors of Jack’s body slowed and Bitty watched as Shitty’s shoulders relaxed._

_It felt like an eternity before Jack opened his eyes again. When he did, Bitty let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding._

_“I’m okay,” Jack whispered, reaching for Shitty’s hand. Shitty took it and held it close to his chest. “Thanks.”_

_“Do you want to sit on the bed?” Shitty asked softly. Jack nodded. “Bits.”_

_Bitty looked up. He’d almost forgotten he was in the room with them, and not watching through a window or a television screen. They’d been in their own world, just Jack and Shitty._

_“Yeah?”_

_“Could you make some tea? Jack has chamomile in his bedside drawer there.”_

_Bitty nodded and rose slowly, feeling very much an outsider as the two boys looked up at him. This wasn’t part of their system - he wasn’t a part of their system. But he’d help any way he could._

_The tea sat in one corner of the drawer, next to a pack of tissues, a bottle of heavy-duty hand lotion, and - surprisingly - a battered copy of the King James bible. There was no lube, no condoms, nothing embarrassing or telling.  But the Bible stayed in Bitty’s mind as he hurried downstairs to heat up two mugs of water._

_Was Jack religious? Bitty didn’t know. He knew he himself was a Methodist in theory, possibly agnostic in practice. He knew Shitty was vehemently atheist. He knew bits and pieces of all his teammate’s beliefs, the holidays they celebrated and the services they attended, but nothing about Jack. For a moment, Bitty wondered if it was on his Wikipedia page._

_As he waited for the teabags to steep, Bitty wondered if Shitty knew and almost laughed out loud. Of course Shitty knew. He knew Jack’s parents (called them “Bob” and “Alicia”), knew Jack’s favorite food (chicken tenders with honey mustard sauce), knew Jack’s schedule and childhood stories and - most importantly - how to hold him after a panic attack. Shitty was in love with Jack — far deeper in love with him than he was in love with Bitty._

_For such a startling realization, Bitty didn’t find it all that surprising. It just...made sense._

_Once the tea was ready he brought it upstairs, narrowly avoiding spilling it all down Camilla’s shirt when he ran into her in the hallway. She raised an eyebrow at the mugs but winked at him, probably assuming the tea was for him and Shitty. He smiled back at her and noticed that she was wearing Jack’s shirt — a plaid one that was stolen by both Shitty and Lardo on a regular basis. The thought made him a little sad._

_When he entered Jack’s room, Jack and Shitty were curled on the bed together, Jack’s head pillowed on Shitty’s chest. Shitty was murmuring something, low and soft, running his hand through Jack’s hair. It was the gentlest Bitty had ever seen his boyfriend._

_“Got the tea,” he said, walking over to set the mugs on the bedside table. Shitty smiled gratefully at him; Jack didn’t open his eyes._

_“Thanks, Bits,” Shitty said. “Do you think-?” His eyes darted towards the door._

_Bitty’s felt his heart sink. “Yeah, of course. Text me if you need anything.”_

_It was several more hours until Shitty came to bed, tense and unusually quiet. In the morning, Jack would slip away to the airport without a word to anyone. Bitty’s only goodbye would be a small bag of cookies tucked into Jack’s luggage. There would only be silence between them for weeks to come._

* * *

 

It was late one evening when Lardo barged into Bitty’s room, frowning. “What’s up with Shits?” She asked, unceremoniously plopping down in Bitty’s lap. “He’s been like...quiet. It’s scaring me.”

Bitty sighed, putting down his book. “I was hoping you knew. Shitty won’t tell me anything, but I think Jack’s been avoiding him. Me, too, but Shitty specifically.”

“When did it start?” Lardo asked, resting her head on Bitty’s shoulder.

“Epikegster,” Bitty said softly. “Pretty sure, at least. Jack went home bright n’ early the next morning. He texted me about the cookies I snuck into his luggage, but didn’t respond to any of my messages for the rest of break. Which, okay, that’s not atypical for Jack. But I barely see him anymore and he lives right across the hall.” He sighed. “I think maybe they had a fight after I left.”

Lardo was quiet for a long moment, then she said, “Must’ve been one hell of a fight. Shitty’s not one to hold grudges.”

That was something Bitty was aware of. Shitty more or less hated his father and the Knight family as a whole, but that came from years of forced association. Shitty was quick to judge and quick to correct, but he was laid-back, forgiving kind of guy. “Yeah...I’ve never seen him act this way around anyone.”

Because Shitty was avoiding _Jack_ on some level, too. The whole last semester, Bitty had gotten used to waking up to an empty bed, only to hear his boyfriend across the hall, very loudly trying to snuggle an unwilling Jack. The fact that he hadn’t forced Jack to confront whatever had happened between them just didn’t sit right with Bitty.

“I mean,” Lardo continued, nervously picking at the dried paint that speckled her fingers. “I think the only person he’s ever held a grudge against, other than his dad, is the d-man who took you out in that game last year.”

Bitty almost smiled. “I can’t even imagine what kind of fight would make them act like this. Shitty’s...he’s been so sad lately. It breaks my heart.”

“Maybe you should talk to Jack,” Lardo suggested, moving on to play with a loose thread on Bitty’s shirt. “If Shits isn’t saying anything.”

Bitty gnawed at his bottom lip. He hated conflict, hated confronting people and forcing himself into uncomfortable situations. But if it was on his boyfriend’s behalf… “I don’t know, Lardo. He’s been avoiding me, too.”

“Aren’t you guys still doing checking practice?” Lardo asked, brows furrowed. “Tell him you need more practice. Zimmermann can’t say no to hockey.”

It wasn’t a terrible idea, probably. Bitty sighed and nodded. “Okay. Okay, I’ll talk to Jack.”

Lardo grinned at him and snuggled against his chest, watching as he scrolled through his Twitter feed nervously. She seemed less calm than usual, a little twitchy, a little flustered, and with a sigh Bitty set down his phone. “Girl, are you feeling alright?”

Lardo gave him a sad look. “Yeah, just...It’ll be okay, Bits. Jack and Shits are solid, they’ll make it out the other side of this.”  

“Yeah, yeah,” Bitty said breathily. “Sure, they’re...they’re always good. Even when Shits tries to naked-cuddle Jack...or Jack’s kind of an ass at practice...They’ll be okay.”

“Talk to Jack, talk to your BF, it’ll all get sorted out,” Lardo said too assuredly. It worried Bitty that this fight — or whatever — had Lardo concerned. Nothing concerned Lardo, at least not outwardly.

“Right,” he said, pulling her closer. “Of course.”

  


* * *

 

Bitty just couldn’t figure out what drew Camilla to the Haus.

At first he’d assumed she hung around for Jack, being a good girlfriend and humoring his ridiculous friends. But lately it felt like she was in the kitchen with Bitty more and more, when Jack was out on a run or at class. Camilla was classy and sharp, preferred wine to beer, and was actually the worst at video games. Barring Jack, Bitty wasn’t actually sure why Camilla came within a ten-foot radius of the smelly hockey frat.

He was glad for the company, however. Bitty was not a bro by nature; he tended to _fear_ bros intrinsically. And there was not a soul in his main social circle that wasn’t at least part bro. Camilla held her own at pong and could probably bench-press Bitty, but she was by no stretch of the imagination a _bro._

It was the first official week of classes and the boys had wandered down the street to some frat crawl that was, according to Holster, supposed to be “off the fuckin’ chains!” Bitty had turned down the invitation to join them, content instead to spend a cozy night in with Betsy and his mother’s Pinterest boards.

The oven hadn’t even heated up when Camilla strolled into the kitchen with two bottles of cabernet sauvignon.

They drank the wine out of solo cups, for lack of anything better, and chit chatted as Bitty scrolled through different recipes. “I’m thinking something savory and borderline disgusting, so that the boys’ll have something greasy to sop up the alcohol when they come home tonight.,” he said, tongue already feeling thick and loose from his drink.

“Ooh, what about those spaghetti and meatball cups?” Camilla asked, peering over Bitty’s shoulder. “I love anything made in a muffin tin that _shouldn’t_ be made in a muffin tin.”

This made Bitty laugh, so he pulled up the recipe and nodded. “We have all these ingredients. Holster bought way too much ground beef for burger night on Wednesday. Shitty stress-eats spaghetti pretty frequently. And I always got canned tomato stored away, just in case.”

“Wow,” Camilla said, taking a swig from her cup. “I think I have some granola bars in my apartment. That’s about as far as my culinary efforts go.”

Bitty gasped dramatically. “Ms. Collins! Well, then, slip on that apron hangin’ on the door and come be my sous chef for the night.”

By the time the spaghetti and meatball cups were put in the oven, Bitty and Camilla had decimated the first bottle of wine. Camilla had her feet up in Bitty’s lap, and he toyed absent-mindedly with her socks as they talked.

“So, of course, I couldn’t just stand for someone talking to my friend like that,” Camilla was saying, gesturing her hands animatedly. Bitty clucked and shook his head.

“Boys ‘round here’ve got _no_ manners, lemme tell you,” he interjected. “Back home not a single mama would stand to hear her baby sayin’ such rude things - and to the _hostess_ , no less!”

“I _know_ ,” Camilla said, eyes wide. “Westchester people are the _worst_.”

Bitty raised an eyebrow. “Hun, ain’tcha from Jersey? Everybody hates Jersey up here.”

“Like you can talk, _Georgia_ ,” Camilla retorted with a grin. “Anyway, so after this boring hipster dude told Priya that her dress was too skimpy and she needed to embrace her _intellectual beauty_ \- which, fuck you, dude, she’s gonna be a fucking engineer - he basically shit on all the beer for being Corona and not, like, mega expensive craft shit and then hoarded the microwave taquitos like _what even_?”

Bitty huffed in righteous indignation. He didn’t even _know_ Priya, but the southern hospitality in his veins was boiling with rage. “I have a few words for that man,” he said primly. “He best never find himself at a Haus party, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, I think he’ll be behaving himself from now on,” Camilla said around the lip of her cup. “Seeing as I _mi-i-ight_ have gotten into a fight with him on the balcony. And I _might_ have poured Corona down his shirt. And I _might_ have told him that if I ever saw him at a tennis party ever again I’d shove that tray of taquitos so far up his ass he’d be tasting them for a month.”  

“Camilla, _Jesus_ ,” Bitty gasped, startled into laughter. “You’re secretly just a big hot mess, ain’tcha?”

“A-yup,” Camilla said, popping the “p.” She grinned at him and they both dissolved into tipsy giggles. It took several minutes a two glasses of water before either of them calmed down.  

“So, I gotta ask,” Bitty eventually said as he uncorked the second bottle. “Why’ve you been around the Haus so much lately? Don’t get me wrong, I _love_ having you here. But Jack’s been actively avoiding this place and he _lives_ here…”

Camilla’s smile turned a bit shy and she stuck out her cup for Bitty to refill. “Honestly, it’s because of Lardo,” she admitted, cheeks flushed. “I’ve been trying to get to know her better.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Bitty said, pouring himself half a cup of wine. He knew he should slow down, but Camilla had brought good stuff - stuff that didn’t come in a box! - and he felt so warm and loose and giggly. “You two get along, huh?”

Camilla gave him an odd look. “Yeah, we do. Lardo’s great. And _really_ hot.”

Bitty felt his eyebrows shoot up. “What?”

“Oh, I’d tap that in a heartbeat,” Camilla said with a giggle. “And now that I know she’s single, I’m gonna try.”

Bitty felt his heart beating wildly in his chest. “What...about Jack?”

Camilla frowned. “What about him?”

“Aren’t...aren’t you two dating?”

Camilla barked with laughter, then, covering her mouth her hand. “Oh, my God, _no_. We’re just friends.”

“Oh.” Bitty bit his lip. “Oh, well, then you should definitely text Lardo right now.”

“Really?” Camilla asked, face lighting up. “You think so?”

Bitty reached across the table and covered her hands with his own. “Sugar, I _know_ so.”

In the background, the oven timer went off. Bitty stood, swaying a bit, and shuffled over to pull out the muffin tins. Camilla watched him work, biting her lip, hand twitching for the phone in her pocket.

Bitty looked back at her and grinned. “Alright, here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna let these cool, I’m gonna make a dent in this bottle, and _you’re_ gonna text Lardo. And then, very possibly, you’re going to leave me to do the clean up since you’ll have _better_ things to do, huh?”

The smile Camilla gave him was blinding.

 

That night, as Shitty slipped into bed reeking of pot and sweat, he pressed several kisses to Bitty’s face then asked, very casually, “So why did Lardo just text you a peace-sign emoji, a tongue emoji, and like five billion splashing water emojis?”

Bitty laughed so hard he cried.

 

* * *

When Bitty had asked to have another checking practice, Jack looked desperately like he wanted to say no. “Oh, I don’t know...I’m sort of bu...maybe Ransom or Holster…?” He’d paused, not meeting Bitty’s eyes, face contorting with conflicted emotions. Eventually, the Captain in him won, and he said, “Tomorrow morning?” with the tone of a man being sentenced to death. Bitty had nodded and thanked him, but was wondering if this had been the right thing to do.

They went through the motions of practice without saying much, and it wasn’t until they were changing in the dressing room afterwards that Bitty found his courage.

“Jack, did I do something?” He asked abruptly as Jack finished lacing up his boots. “That night, when Kent Parson…” Bitty trailed off, wringing his hands together.

“ _No_ ,” Jack said quickly, hands stalling over his shoes. “No, Bittle, you didn’t...it was me. It’s all my fault.”

“ _What’s_ your fault?” Bitty pressed. “Did you and Shitty have a fight? Why’ve you been avoiding us? Jack, talk to me, please, we can work it out, whatever it is-”

“I kissed him.”

Bitty’s heart skipped a beat. “What? Who? Kent Par-?”

“No,” Jack said softly. “I mean, Parse kissed me, that’s diff- I kissed Shitty.” He buried his face in his hands. “I’m sorry, Bittle, I’m _so_ sorry...”

A small, silly part of Bitty’s brain wanted to make a joke about Canadians apologizing too much, but instead he took a long, shaky breath and asked, “Why?”

Jack’s face was pinched with guilt and sorrow. “He didn’t kiss me back, he pushed me off, he didn’t cheat on you, Bits, I swear. I made him promise not to tell you, not to tell anyone-”

“Jack,” Bitty said a bit sharper, wrapping his arms tightly around him. “Why did you kiss my boyfriend?”

The room fell silent. Jack looked down, cheeks flushed with embarrassment or grief or _something_. All of the pieces fell together at once, and Bitty felt a lump growing in his throat. “You love him.”

It wasn’t a question. Jack didn’t answer, but he didn’t correct Bitty either, and that was all the confirmation Bitty needed.

“Okay,” Bitty whispered. “Okay.”

When Jack looked up again, his eyes were wet with unshed tears. It hurt Bitty far more than he had any right to feel, seeing Jack so sad. Swallowing down his own tears, Bitty turned to leave.

“I’m so sorry, Bittle,” Jack whispered. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Bitty nodded, unable to turn back and look at Jack. “Stop avoiding Shitty, it’s breaking his heart. Please.”

Before Jack could respond, Bitty grabbed his bag and slipped from the dressing room. His face burned with suppressed tears and anger, but he squared his shoulders and steadied himself. What he was about to do would break his heart twice over, but in the end it would be the best for the two men he loved.

 

* * *

 

When Bitty slipped into Shitty’s room, cheeks flushed from the cold and checking practice, Shitty knew something was wrong. He pulled himself up from the bed, glad he’d decided to wear pants around the Haus for once. If they were going to have a serious conversation, it was best he wasn’t in just his Wonder Woman boxers.

“Can we talk?” Bitty asked, voice small. Shitty stood, heart skipping a beat.

“What’s up, Bits?” He asked, the words coming out far wearier than he’d intended. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I think we should break up,” Bitty said, not meeting Shitty’s eye.

Shitty leaned back against the wall, feeling very much like he’d just been sucker punched in the gut. “What?” He asked, voice strangled and high pitched. “Bits, why?”

Bitty shrugged and whispered, “It’s for the best.”

Shitty desperately wanted to cross the room and pull Bitty into a huge bear hug and never let go, but the sharp pain in his chest rooted him to the spot. Bitty had never looked so small to Shitty, hunched over and red-eyed. “Bits. Eric,” he said softly. “Why?”

“You’re in love with Jack,” Bitty said, face crumpling. “And...he kissed you.”

“I didn’t kiss him,” Shitty said, louder. “I didn’t. I stopped him. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, he regretted it and asked me not to-”

Shitty was cut off by the look in Bitty’s eyes, the anguish and determination than shone there. “You’re _so_ in love with each other,” he said. “There’s been this...this magnetic draw between you two as long as I’ve known you. There’s a world between you and him that no one else can enter, and that’s- it hurts. But it’s okay. You two care so much for each other. You should be together.”

“Bits,” Shitty whispered, voice cracking as he pushed himself off the wall. “No, you...I love _you_ . I want to be with _you_.”

A few tears spilled over, trailing down Bitty’s cheeks. “I- I love you, too. Which is why I’m doing this. Shitty...sweetheart, you’ve been a ghost since we got back from break. Hollow. Empty without Jack in your life. He’ll always be number one to you and I guess…” Bitty’s throat clicked as he swallowed back — well, maybe a sob or something cruel. “I know when I’m in the way, Shitty. I know when I’m not needed. And I love you both too much to be a wall between you.”

“You’re not-” Shitty’s voice broke. “Bits…”

“You both deserve to be happy,” Bitty said softly. “I want you to be happy.”

“I _am_ ,” Shitty said. “You make me happy, Bits.”

“Not like him,” Bitty whispered, wiping at his eyes. “This is for the best, I think. For the team, for the both of you…”

Shitty stepped closer, taking Bitty’s hand. “What about you?”

Bitty shrugged. “I’ll be happy to see you happy. And one day I’ll find someone who loves me the way you love Jack.”

Shitty’s chest felt like it had been ripped open. “Bitty...I…I…”

“Bye, Shitty,” Bitty said softly.

If his life was a movie, Shitty would’ve run after Bitty, kissing him on the porch of the Haus and declaring that he’d never love anyone the way he loved Bitty. But that wasn’t true and Shitty’s life was too messy to fit on the silver screen.

_“You have a big heart,”_  his mother had told him once, when she first filed the divorce papers against his father. _“You have all this love to give, baby, but be careful with your heart. There’s room in there for so many people, but that means there’s more of it to break._ ”

There’s been too much room in his heart, Shitty supposed. Somehow, without realizing, Bitty and Jack had both made homes in his chest, and he loved them both too much.

And now he’d lost both of them.

He didn’t realize he was crying until he sank to the floor, knees hitting the carpet with a dull, painful thud. For the first time since he’d called out Jack’s name instead of Bitty’s, Shitty let himself cry without restraint or hesitation. He’d probably fucked up the two greatest things in his life, so he gave into the sharp pain between his lungs and sobbed like a child, alone.  

Shitty didn’t move from the floor for a very long time. He couldn’t bring himself to move to the bed — a bed he hadn’t slept in for many, many months. Somehow, the floor seemed less lonely.

 

* * *

 

Shitty was propped up against the wall when Lardo burst into his room.

“Why did Bitty just text me about giving someone premature dibs?” Lardo asked, hands on her hips. “What did you do?”

“Premature dibs?” Shitty asked, not quite following.

Lardo huffed. “Unless you fix whatever it is you fucked up, you’re looking at rooming with Ollie for the rest of the semester. Or Wicks. Which one of them always compliments Bitty’s roadie snacks?”

“Wicks,” Shitty said absently, mind buzzing with panic. “He’s moving out?”

“He’s thinking ‘bout it,” Lardo said crossly. “Does this have anything to do with why Zimmermann’s been avoiding you like the plague? Cami says he’s been sleeping at her place, just to avoid the Haus.”

“I can’t...I made a promise, Lards,” Shitty said resignedly. “It’s not my place to tell what happened.”

“What, did he make a move on you?” Lardo joked. Shitty felt his eyes go wide, felt the blood drain from his face.

"Wh-what, no! No, not- he's definitely not-"

Lardo sighed. “Shits, I know about Jack. I’ve known longer than anyone.”

“Class Day of 2013?” Shitty guessed, mind whirling. Lardo nodded.

“You’re in love with Jack,” she said. “He’s in love with you. He made a move on you. You’re dating Bitty. Is this an accurate summary of the drama that’s been rockin’ the Haus since break ended?”

Shitty’s throat felt thick when he said, “Not dating Bitty. Anymore. He, uh. Ended things.”

“Fuck,” Lardo breathed, sinking to the ground next to him. “Because of...whatever Jack did or said? Are you getting together with Jack?”

“No,” Shitty said softly. “I don’t know. Bitty said it was...he’s ‘getting out of the way’ for me and Jack, but Jack...I don’t know what to do, Lards. They’re the two most important people in my life, I can’t...I can’t lose either of them. What do I do?”

Lardo took a deep breath, face hard and unreadable. “Shits, I love you. You and I have been ride or die since we met. You know I’ll always be your friend. But right now, you need to make a fucking choice. You’re gonna break someone’s heart and I honestly don’t know who I’d prefer it to be. But you gotta make a decision, Shits. You have to choose to hurt one of them.”

“I can’t,” Shitty whispered. “I-I can’t choose, can’t hurt either of them. Can’t lose one of them...”

Shitty had loved Jack the minute he’d met him. The grumpy bastard had seemed so much younger then, so raw and volatile and lonely. But Shitty had been younger then, too, still reeling from his parents’ divorce and the crushing realization that his father was a really bad person. They’d clung to each other like two kids lost in the woods, groping through the darkjess together.

And then Bitty had shown up, bright and shining, a light in the fucking dark. He was just as lost as they were, maybe moreso, but his smile made Shitty forget all the pain he’d ever known. It was a sappy, corny, dumb metaphor, but Shitty couldn’t imagine where he’d be without either of them. He’d be harder, harsher, angrier, relying too much on Lardo’s friendship and drinking himself into a stupor every night the way he had in high school.

“This is such a fucked up mess,” Lardo murmured, frowning at the floor.

“Yeah,” Shitty sighed. “Yeah it is. But I’m gonna fix it.”

“How?” Lardo asked. “This shit can’t be fixed. Someone’s gonna get hurt.”

“Not necessarily,” Shitty said, standing and grabbing his coat. “Can you text Bitty and tell him to go to Faber?”

“Okay…” Lardo said slowly, pulling out her phone. “Let me guess — you want Cami to text Jack?”

“Please?” Shitty asked, pulling on his snow boots. “I have to talk with both of them.”

“Shits...what are you scheming?” Lardo asked, looking up from her phone. “Are you gonna…?”

“I’m gonna try,” he said softly, grabbing his favorite trapper hat from on top of his Con. Law textbook.

“Will they go for that?” Lardo asked, voice cautiously hopeful. “I mean, neither of them is in the most...open situation right now. I know this is Samwell, but that’s a lot to ask of two closeted guys.”

“It wouldn’t have to be public,” Shitty said. “The world’s not all that open to that kind of thing, anyway. And, in a bad situation, Jack would have a greater amount of plausible deniability if there’s two of us…”

“This isn’t the first time you’ve thought about this,” Lardo said, raising an eyebrow.

Shitty shrugged, feeling uncharacteristically embarrassed. “It would be good, wouldn’t it? Like, really, really _good_.”

Lardo’s frown softened. “Yeah, dude. It would.”

“I gotta try, then,” he said resolutely. “For all of us.”

“Okay,” Lardo said with a small, surprised huff of laughter. “I never thought I’d say this in such a serious conversation but...you do you, man.”

Shitty had Lardo off her feet in seconds, spinning her around in a tight hug. “You’re the best bro, Lards,” he said, squeezing tighter as she protested. “I wish eternal happiness and a million fat babies for you and Camilla.”

“We don’t want kids,” Lardo said off-handedly, which just made Shitty shriek.

“ _You’ve talked kids already?_ ” He hissed in delight. “Wait, wait, I don’t have time- we’re coming back to that, got it? Okay, I need to woo some beautiful fuckers. You texted Bits?”

Lardo grinned at him as he set her down. “I did. Cami’s texted Jack. It’s all on you now, bud.”

“Okay,” Shitty said, nerves rattling his bones in a terrifying and amazing way. “Wish me luck.”

“Don’t fuck up, asshat,” Lardo said, but the thickness in her voice gave her away.

“If I do,” Shitty said seriously. “You get my dibs. ‘Kay? Take my room and I’ll move off campus and quit the team and leave them both alone forever and ever.”

Lardo glared at him. “Shut up and go get your boys already.”

“Right,” Shitty said with a newfound determination. “Okay. I got this. I’m gonna fix this.”

Before he could let himself feel the fear and anxiety of it all, he was off, feet taking him to Faber and to the two men he loved most in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally wrote a scene where Lardo talked Bitty out of the breakup before I wrote any of the rest of this chapter, but then I was like...you know what we all need more of this holiday season? Pain and bad decisions. Happy Holidays!
> 
> I'm on tumblr at [eve-baird](http://www.eve-baird.tumblr.com).


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, have had major block on this chapter! Not my favorite piece of writing, but a HELL of a lot happier than last chapter. Happy day-after-valentine's day!

From the Haus, Bitty all but ran to the Pond and collapsed on a bench by the water. Everything hurt — his eyes, his throat, his heart — but it was for the best. It had to be for the best. This would make Shitty the happiest, make Jack the happiest...and Bitty had to be okay with that.

Bitty wasn’t sure how long he’d been on that bench when Ransom and Holster found him. He was cold — too cold — and all his muscles ached. He’d stopped crying hours before, but his eyes still felt red and raw. Ransom and Holster didn’t say anything when they approached, but suddenly Bitty was in the air, hoisted into Holster’s arms.

As they walked a few blocks through the neighborhood behind East Quad, Bitty could hear Ransom talking on the phone with someone. He hoped it was Lardo or Chowder or — well, really anybody but Shitty or Jack.

Just as Bitty was going to ask Holster to put him down, to protest that he wasn’t far gone enough to need to be carried, they approached a house Bitty had never seen before. In one window hung a Pride flag. In the other, a Samwell pennant. The door opened, and he was greeted by Caitlin Farmer.

“Oh, my gosh!” She exclaimed, moving back to give Holster room. “His lips are _blue_! I didn’t know that was something that actually happened! What do we do? What do you need to do?”

“My lips are not blue,” Bitty muttered. “I wasn’t outside _that_ long.”

Holster snorted. “Bro. You’ve been M.I.A. for, like...five hours.”

“Farmer, do you have a hot water bottle or something?” Ransom asked. Cait looked at him like he’d just spoken to her in Latin.

“Farms,” Holster said patiently. “Is April here?”

Farmer nodded and ran off into another room. A few seconds later, Bitty could hear her sprint up the stairs.   

Moments later, she returned with a short woman Bitty mostly recognized as March’s friend, the one who always looked so bored at parties. _April_.  

She took one long look at him and took over the situation. “We need to warm him up,” April said sharply. “I can hear his teeth chattering from over here.”

“On it,” Holster said, stripping off his jacket and hoodie. Ransom pulled Bitty’s coat from his shoulders, and then he and Holster were pressed up on either side of Bitty, wrapping their arms around him.

“Oh,” Bitty breathed, feeling a thousand times warmer already. Instinctively, he snuggled into someone’s — Holster’s? — side, burying his face in the worn fabric of a Samwell Hockey t-shirt. It smelled like gross boy and Old Spice deodorant and the familiarity of it gripped at Bitty’s already-mangled heart.

“You wanna talk about it?” Ransom asked softly after a moment. Farmer had disappeared somewhere, and April was lurking just outside the living room, probably to give Bitty a little privacy.  "Unless you just decided to hang out in the freezing cold for fun. Is it classes? Did something happen with Shitty?"

Bitty shook his head. “I can’t. I can't talk about it.”

“Okay,” Ransom said. “You don’t have to.”

“I need to text Lardo,” Bitty said, pulling out his phone with shaking hands. “I need- I need to give my dibs to Wicks. She was gonna get back to me on logistics-” 

“Bro, it’s a bit early for you to be giving up your dibs,” Holster said, brows furrowed in confusion. “You’ve got two more years.”

“Can’t stay in the Haus,” Bitty said softly. “Need to leave.”

A thick, heavy silence fell over them. Both men froze, bodies tense against Bitty’s. “Don’t leave us, Bits,” Holster said, quieter than Bitty had ever heard him. “Look — well can kind of guess that Shits is gonna give his dibs to Lardo. And Jack’ll just choose whichever of the Frogs he thinks is the best player, so probably Chowder or Dex. They’ll be gone in a semester, but we won’t be. If anyone should leave the Haus, the team...it’s them. So fuck them.”

Bitty started crying again, chest aching as the sobs wracked his body. Holster ran a large, gentle hand up and down Bitty’s back in soothing strokes. On his other side, Ransom reached over and took his hand, squeezing it tightly.

“I...I just need a few days,” Bitty whispered. “Away from the Haus. Away from the team.”

“You can stay here,” April said, to everyone’s surprise. “I’ll crash with March.”

“Really?” Bitty asked, looking up in surprise. “I couldn’t possibly put you out like that, really, I can sleep at Faber, on Holster’s nap couch-”

“Bro,” Holster said, almost wounded.

Ransom shook his head. “They don’t heat Faber at night. You’d freeze.”

“Stay here,” April said again. “You clearly need a vacation from your personal life, kid, and March has a big bed.”

Bitty almost expected some lecherous innuendos from Holster at that. When they didn’t come, Bitty realized just how serious the boys were taking this.

“O-okay,” Bitty said. “Thank you, April, seriously.” He felt his phone buzz, and saw Lardo’s name flash on the screen.

 

 _Lardy-Lards_ : _look, i kno this is a lot to ask, but can you meet shitty @ faber?_

Bitty frowned. He wasn’t expecting anyone to _take sides_ or anything as juvenile as that, but it still made him uncomfortable that Lardo was doing Shitty’s bidding. Still, he supposed Shitty deserved to talk this out, now matter how painful it got. Maybe he and Jack had gotten their shit together. Maybe Bitty was about to see his own plans come to fruition.

“I, um. I need to run by the Haus, pack a bag,” Bitty said, and it wasn’t necessarily untrue. He wasn’t sure he’d ever want to go back to living in the Haus after today.

“Okay, let me grab my coat-” Ransom began, pulling himself up off the couch.

“No, no, it’s okay. I don’t need a posse,” Bitty said softly. “I’ll be back soon, promise.”

“If you’re sure,” Holster said, frowning.

Bitty stood and nodded. “Yeah. This is something I...I need to do alone. Clear my head.”

“If you’re not back in an hour, we’re putting out an amber alert,” Ransom joked half-heartedly.

Bitty didn’t have the energy to insist that he wasn’t, in fact, twelve years old, but he gave the boys a half-hearted smile and slipped from the room to collect his coat. As soon as he was out of sight, Bitty shot off a quick “yea ok” to Lardo.

It was a small comfort, Bitty thought to himself as he left the volleyball house, that he had a few friends to come home to after this meeting. Bitty was going to need Ransom and Holster’s goofy brand of comfort when all was said and done.

* * *

 

Shitty sat on the bench just by the rink, staring out at the ice. He'd first met Jack on this rink. He'd first skated with Bitty here. He'd made a home and a family for himself in Faber, and he'd be damned if he ruined it all for himself here too.

Jack showed up first, the punctual motherfucker. He didn't say anything to Shitty, just sat down next to him, face pinched with guilt.

After a moment, Jack broke th _e_ silence. “Does... _this_ have anything to do with the angry voicemail I have from Holster?”

“Huh?” Shitty looked up in surprise.

Jack scratched the back of his neck. “Holster is under the impression that I…hurt Bitty in some way.”

Shitty sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “He's always had it out for you, huh?”

Jack shrugged. “You probably have one, too. He had...a lot to say.”

Shitty wouldn't know. Shitty had been avoiding his phone.

They fell into silence again, both staring out at the ice as the seconds ticked by. When a loud, familiar screeching signaled the south entrance doors opening, they both looked up.

Bitty looked like hell. He was quiet, shivering, eyes unfocused and red. Shitty’s heart clenched at the sight, knowing fully well that he was to blame for this — for everything.

“Can we make this quick?” Bitty asked, voice no louder than a whisper. “I told Ransom and Holster I was just heading to the Haus to pack an overnight bag.”

“What?” Jack looked horrified, blanching as he processed Bitty’s words. “An overnight-?”

“Please,” Bitty said. “Please just...get this over with.”

If Shitty hadn’t felt like flinging himself off the roof before, he sure did now. Bitty perched on the edge of one of the benches, leaving an insurmountable distance between them.

“What’s this about, Shits?” Jack asked, pointedly staring at his feet. “Why are we here?”

It was now or never. Years down the road, Shitty would consider this his bravest moment, staring down these two beautiful people and baring the rawest parts of himself for them to reject.

“I love both of you,” Shitty said, shoving his hands into his pants pockets. “And...fuck, I don't wanna make assumptions or, like, call one of you out or anything, but I think...fuck, this is hard to say.”

Bitty’s voice was soft and scratchy when he spoke, and it destroyed Shitty to know it was because he had cried himself hoarse. “What’re you tryin’ so say, Shitty?”

Shitty. Not _sweetheart_ or _sugar_ or _honey_. Shitty’s heart clenched again. “I'm trying to say...do you guys remember Screw?”

Bitty and Jack glanced at each other in tandem, twin looks of confusion and apprehension on their faces.

“Yes…?” Jack said slowly. “Do...do _you?_ ”

Shitty almost wanted to laugh. “No, I mean, at the end of the night when me and Bits walked you home, Jack — do you guys remember that?”

“Yeah,” Bitty whispered. “It was a nice night.”

And it had been _very_ nice indeed. Shitty had been so drunk on the sight of Bitty and Jack walking side-by-side in their suits, on Bitty’s golden complexion and Jack’s doleful, blue eyes. Something has broken in him that night, and with it had come a flood.

“Spit it out, Shits,” Jack said a little gruffly.

Shitty sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “There was a moment, right before you went to bed, where there was this _tension_ . If our lives were a bad porno, it would've been my cue to invite you into bed with us. There's...there’s something between us — _all_ of us. And I think we should explore it.”

Bitty furrowed his brows, mouth pinched into a frown. “You want — what? A threesome? Are you seriously organizing an orgy the day we broke up?”

Shitty felt the blood drain from his face, but Jack spoke before he could protest. “A ménage à trois? You want...a relationship between the three of us?”

Bitty’s eyes widened in understanding. “Is that...is that a thing? I thought only Mormons did that.”

Shitty laughed weakly. “Polyamory’s not too common in Madison, huh?”

“Is it common anywhere?” Jack asked, looking almost relaxed for the first time since he'd arrived. Shitty wanted to kiss the smirk off that beautiful bastard’s mouth.

“So it's, like, dating? Between three people?” Bitty asked, wringing his hands together. “Oh, gosh, that's...that's an interesting concept.”

Shitty realized he probably should've taken into account the fact that Bitty’s only frame of reference for polyamory would be Joseph Smith. The kid hadn't known the term pansexual when he'd first gotten to Samwell, or even how to roll a condom. Shitty liked to think he’d taught Bitty _quite_ a bit since then.

“Camilla’s roommate, Gwen, is in a poly relationship,” Jack mused quietly. “Really, all I know about it comes from listening to Camilla occasionally mention it in her twenty minute rants about Gwen’s inability to wash dishes properly.”

Shitty shrugged, daring to let himself smile. Neither one of them had rejected the idea yet. “I mean, I've done some reading on it,” he said. “But it's not like there's _rules_. Unless we make some. Which we totally can do if you guys want, if you want to even do this at all-”

“I do.”

Shitty felt his heart stutter in his chest. Jack’s gaze was unwavering, his voice assured, confident. They shared a heated look for a moment, then turned to Bitty.

“Oh,” Bitty said softly. “Oh, gosh, I don't...it'll be hard enough coming out to my parents, how do I even explain…?” He looked up at Shitty with shining eyes, face crumpled as he held back tears. “I want to say yes. I love you both a whole lot and I _want_ to say yes. But…”

“But,” Jack agreed. “If it...if it makes things easier, this would have to be on the down-low for me. Nothing...public.”

Bitty nodded in understanding. “I wouldn't...I mean my mama doesn't even know about Shitty. One more secret boyfriend wouldn't hurt.”

“Well, shit,” Shitty said, running a hand through his hair. “We’re doing this. We’re really doing this.”

Bitty reached out for his hand, then tentatively reached for Jack’s as well. His cheeks were flushed, his expression still tentative, guilty, like he wasn't sure if this was even allowed. Jack, to his credit, took it with a far more stoic expression.

“Bittle,” he said softly. “Seal the deal with a kiss?”

Bitty nodded shyly, standing on his tiptoes to meet Jack’s lips. It was as stunning as Shitty had imagined it would be, blinding him in shades of gold and blue. Bitty fit up against Jack like he'd been born for it, and they moved in sync together like they were back on the ice.

For a split second, Shitty wondered if he should just bow out. He was third-line at best, mediocre and average-looking and grating, and these two deserved each other so damn much. But then they broke apart and looked to him with such hope and adoration that Shitty scolded himself for even daring to think he could ever walk away.

“Making out’s gonna get a whole lot more complicated,” Bitty said teasingly. “Or do you just plan on watching, Mr. Knight?”

Shitty pressed up against them, first kissing Jack gently, slowly, then pressing his face into side of Bitty’s head. “I’m sorry for freaking out,” he said to Jack. “And I’m sorry for making you feel second-best, Bits. You both...you’re my world. I can’t imagine life without either of you.”

"Well..." Bitty said. "Now you don't have to."

The shy grin Jack gave them both was blinding. Shitty kissed them both again, cheeks aching from how wide he was smiling. 

  


* * *

 

Valentine’s Day brought several things:

  * A game. Of _course._
  * Shitty’s traditional half-hour long rant about the blatant commercialism and societal pressures of this Capitalist-cesspool of a holiday.
  * Derek Nurse’s birthday, for which Bitty had already baked several pies and a chocolate cake with cayenne-fudge icing. (“Rich and a little spicy, just like our Nursey.” “To complete the metaphor, you should throw it on the ground so it's a _huge mess_ , too.” “Dex. Touch this cake and no one will ever find you body.”)



These things were expected, scheduled even. What Bitty had not been expecting, though, was having _two_ boyfriends to surprise.

Shitty was easy. Shitty knew Bitty, knew what he liked in bed and knew that he couldn't always express his feelings with words, but meant it in his baking and cooking and doting. Shitty would love nothing more than the basket of treats Bitty was making him, including _very_ special brownies Bitty had baked in the dead of night, with Lardo’s guidance.

Jack, though — Bitty had no idea what to do for his new, unexpected, secret boyfriend. Jack likes Bitty’s baking alright, but never in the same, ravenous way the other boys did.

Maybe Bitty could just get him a tub of protein powder and new stick tape. Maybe that was the kind of valentine Jack Zimmermann appreciated.

In the end, it was Lardo who saved his ass. “Zimmermann,” she barked as he entered the living room. “You and Cami are buds. What should I get her for Valentine’s Day?”

“Um.” Jack looked blindsided. “Chocolate? Flowers?”

“Jack,” Lardo said in exasperation. “This is _Camilla Collins_. I can’t do the same old crap. It needs to be special.”

Jack shrugged, plopping down on the couch next to her. Bitty watched them curiously from the armchair was he was trying, and failing, to finish a paper. “Camilla’s a simple person. She’d like really nice chocolates or a good bottle of _petite syrah_ or, I don’t know, a _painting_ from her _artist_ girlfriend.” He shot Lardo a pointed look.

“You think she’d like that?” Lardo asked, almost shyly. “It’s not...lame?”

Jack smiled. “No, I think she’d love anything you made for her. It’s cliche, but...it really _is_ the thought that counts.”

“Huh.” Lardo considered his words for a moment. “That’s not terrible advice.”

It wasn’t. And it gave Bitty an idea.

So when the big V-day itself came around, after the game, before Nursey’s birthday bash, Bitty pulled his boyfriends ( _boyfriends!_ ) up to his room and presented them each with a basket.

“So, of course, Shitty’s is all of his favorite munchies,” Bitty said, wringing his hands together. “Including some...not quite legal treats.”

“ _Bits_ ,” Shitty gasped, looking up from his present. “Did you pop that pot brownie cherry?”

“If my mama asks, absolutely not,” Bitty said. “But Lardo owed me a favor for my help with her art show…”

“BITS.” Shitty slung his arms around Bitty, smacking loud, wet kisses to his head. “I love you, dude.”

Bitty’s heart skipped a beat. “Love you too, hun. But this isn’t a regular thing, don’t get used to it.”

Shitty wiped away a fake tear. “I’ll treasure these forever.”

“And Jack,” Bitty said, motioning to his basket. “I really struggled to think of what you’d want, given how you try to eat healthy most of the time, so I...well.”

In the basket were two loaves of homemade bread, three jars of freshly ground peanut butter, and three jars of the Phelps family’s secret-recipe jam.

“Your pre-game ritual is so important to you, and I figure you’d need all the lov- luck you could get in a PB&J. So. Um. Yeah.”

Jack looked up at Bitty, stunned. “You...did you make all of this yourself?”

Bitty nodded, lips pressed together in a tight line. He’d gone to Camilla’s apartment to do most of the work, just to keep it secret.

Suddenly Bitty found himself in a warm, strong embrace. Jack hugged him tightly, lips pressed to the crown of Bitty’s head. “This is really nice,” he murmured.

“Awww, you guys,” Shitty cooed. “The most romantic PB&Js of all time.”

He slung himself around the both of them, joining the hug with enthusiasm. Bitty laughed and let both boys kiss him soundly for a moment, relieved that his gifts had been appreciated.

“So I didn’t buy you guys anything, ‘cause I didn’t want to support the heteronormative, patriarchal, bullshit candy-selling Valentine’s Day industry,” Shitty said, pulling back a bit.  “But I did get us dinner reservations,” He shrugged. “For tomorrow. The fifteenth.”

“All three of us?” Bitty asked tentatively. “In...public?”

To his surprise, Shitty just laughed. “It's not a _date_ , Bits.”

Bitty and Jack shared a confused look. “Then...what is it?” Jack asked.

“A business meeting!” Shitty exclaimed, clapping his hands together cheerfully. “The biggest no-homo of all time!”

“I don't think that's even remotely true,” Bitty said, but he couldn't stop the grin spreading across his face.

“Oh, c’mon,” Shitty said, wrapping one arm around each boyfriend. “It's genius. No one will suspect a thing. Three men meeting for _business_ purposes the day _after_ Valentine’s Day — the perfect cover.”

“Okay,” Jack said, looking tentatively excited. “That sounds...nice.”

“It’s a pretty nice place,” Shitty said. “Mom’s colleague recommended it. S’called _Uchi_ , high-end Japanese cuisine.”

“I’ve heard of it,” Jack said idly, nodding. “In Boston?”

“Yeah, man.” Shitty looked to Bitty to garner his reaction.

“I...I’ve never had sushi,” Bitty said, rubbing his hands together. “Is it sushi?”

Shitty grinned. “Not exclusively, but we’ll definitely get you some sushi, Bits.”

“Oh, gosh,” Bitty said. “I’m excited.”

There was a pause where they realized Jack wasn’t going to give them gifts. Bitty was obviously ignoring it, but Shitty cast Jack a curious, teasing look.

“I actually, um.” Jack rubbed the back of his neck. “I got you guys chocolate but I just had an idea for...something better. I’ll be right back.”

He dashed from the room and Bitty and Shitty exchanged a look. “Is he getting us a sex gift?” Shitty asked, stroking his mustache in thought. Bitty slapped his arm.

“Be nice,” he chastised. “But also. Yes. Yes, he is.”

* * *

 

**The Daddy Issues Club**

**February 15th, 2015**

Bitty (7:47 PM): why

Shitty (7:48 PM): why am i so charming and handsome i cannot answer that for you bits its one of lifes greatest mysteries

Bitty (7:49 PM): try again, knight

Jack (7:50 PM): Why are you two texting? You’re both in the Haus.

Bitty (7:52 PM): Jack, sweetheart, might i direct your attention to the brand new title of this group chat?

Jack (7:55 PM): Shitty

Jack (7:56 PM): No

Shitty (7:56 PM): well am i WRONG

Bitty (7:58 PM): welcome to dating shitty, jack. this is what you signed up for.

Jack (7:59 PM): I don’t have daddy issues.

Shitty (8:00 PM): um eXCUSE ME SIR

Shitty (8:00 PM): BUT I BELIEVE UR PANTS ARE ON FIRE

Bitty (8:00 PM): shut up, darlin

Jack (8:01 PM): I have a great relationship with my father.

Bitty (8:02 PM): i can’t believe we’re debating this

Bitty (8:02 PM): hey, who wants pie? let’s make a pie

Shitty (8:03 PM): ur deflecting

Jack (8:04 PM): Bittle, stop procrastinating. Shitty, drop it.

Shitty (8:05 PM): yes, DAD

Bitty (8:06 PM): i can break up with y’all right here and now

Shitty (8:07 PM): bits i can literally see u ur poker face is terrible

Jack (8:09 PM): Don’t either of you have work to do?

Bitty (8:10 PM): pie waits for no man, Mr. Zimmermann

Jack (8:11 PM): I’m just saying you should both get your work done before tonight.

Shitty (8:11 PM): why jack?? Are you PLANNING somethign??? will we be BUSY????

Jack (8:12 PM): I want to answer, but I know I’m walking into a trap here.

Bitty (8:13 PM): smart choice, honey. come help me bake while he wears himself out.

Shitty (8:14 PM): BE CAREFUL BITS HES TRYING TO SEDUCE YOU

Shitty (8:15 PM): OH DANG BAKE OR   BAKE????????

Shitty (8:15 PM): WAIT FOR ME

Jack (8:17 PM): We’re making pie, not eggplant.

Bitty (8:18 PM): im leaving both of you

* * *

 

Their not-Valentine's dinner was nice but ultimately uneventful. Shitty was on his best behavior, still guilty for the pain he’d caused with their brief love triangle. He charmed the sommelier into ignoring Bitty’s obvious youth and stuck to appropriate topics and never once used his “outdoor voice.” Bitty was proud; Jack was unnerved.

The restaurant itself was in Boston proper and before Bitty could pull up his rideshare app to head home, Jack cleared his throat awkwardly.

“So, um, before you call a cab, I...I wanted to offer my Valentine’s day present,” he said, not quite meeting their eyes.

“Is it a pony?” Shitty asked with a grin. “A puppy?”

“No,” Jack said, words stilted and uncomfortable. There was a moment where no one spoke, waiting for Jack to elaborate. He struggled to form the words, though, and ended up shoving a credit card into Bitty’s hands.

Except...it wasn’t a credit card. It was a room key. A room key with the logo to a very nice, very expensive hotel that was only a few blocks away from where they stood.  

“You got us a hotel room?” Bitty asked, eyes growing wide.

“Why, Jacques Laurent,” Shitty said, snaking an arm around Bitty’s waist. “Are you trying to _seduce_ us?”

“Um.” Jack’s face flushed _deliciously_ and he scuffed his shoe against the pavement. “I just thought- the Haus walls are so thin- we don't have to do anything-”

“Jack,” Bitty said softly. “We’d love to see that fancy hotel room of yours.”

“And, you know.” Shitty shrugged, exchanging a mischievous look with Bitty. “Let you seduce us.”

Jack let out a relieved huff of air and looked up at both of them with hopeful eyes. “Cool.”

“Cool, he says,” Shitty teased, looping an arm through Jack’s. “Seducing us will be _cool_ , Bits.”

“What a shame,” Bitty said, walking ahead of them. He cast a look over his shoulder and winked. “I was hoping it’d be hot.”

Shitty cackled but Jack’s face turned pink, all the way down his neck and under his collar. He sped up his pace, dragging Shitty along with him, and the three of them all but sprinted to the hotel.

There was a quiet, tense moment as the door to their room swung shut. The three of them stood in the hallway of the suite, uncertain, anxious.

Surprisingly, it was Bitty who made the first move. “Jack, Shitty,” he said softly, voice deeper and gruffer than usual. “I think I'm gonna check out what kind of fancy shower this place has.”

Jack frowned, confused, as Bitty waltzed into the bathroom. Shitty came up behind him, pressing kisses to his back, and laughed. “I think we should join him, _eh_?”

Jack laughed and turned to kiss Shitty, deep and filthy and new.

“I've never...in the shower before,” he murmured, hands drifting to tug Shitty’s shirtail from his waistband. “Sounds complicated.”

“Mm, a bit,” Shitty said, unbuckling Jack’s belt for him. “But I think you'll find that for Bits, anything is worth it.”

“I'm starting to see that,” Jack said. “I think you both are. Worth it.”

Shitty surged up to kiss Jack again, then pulled back to grab Jack’s hand and pull him toward the bathroom. “C’mon, he's probably already three fingers in by now.”

Jack’s eyes darkened. “Oh,” was all he managed to say.

“Yeah,” Shitty laughed. “You ain't seen nothing yet.”

Jack grinned, wide and uninhibited, and followed Shitty into the bathroom where Bitty was waiting.

* * *

 

When Shitty woke up, he was tucked between Jack and Bitty, body sore and loose in the best sort of way. He could feel lips on the back of his neck, little nips of teeth and tongue on his skin. A pair of intense, blue eyes watched him awaken.

“Hi,” Jack whispered. “We've been waiting for you.”

Two thin, strong arms snaked around Shitty’s chest, Bitty pressed up flush against his back. “Mm, morning sugar. Jack’s just been itchin’ to get his hands on you.”

“Well, can't keep the man waiting,” Shitty said, stretching back to grab Bitty and hoist him over into the little space between him and Jack. Bitty shrieked and Jack laughed and Shitty knew, in that moment, that there was no way he'd ever feel happier than he did with these two men.

“Been waiting long enough, I’m sure,” Bitty said softly, reaching up brush his knuckles across Jack’s cheek. Jack flushed under his touch, eyes drifting back to Shitty.

They didn’t get back to campus until the afternoon, all laughing and chirping and stealing glances as they strolled toward the Haus. Shitty and Bitty walked hand-in-hand, and Shitty made a point to brush up against Jack ever now and then. They would have a lot to explain, when they got back to Haus, and not all of it would be truthful. They would have to hide for a long time — maybe even the entire span of this relationship. They would face distances and obstacles like they’d never known. But it was worth it; _they_ were worth it.

When Shitty’s parents divorced, he didn’t make some grand, misled decision that love wasn’t real; he’d been under that impression since the first time he ever saw his mother cry because of something his father said or did. It had taken him a long time to trust that people could love without ulterior motives or underlying bitterness. But now, now, walking home with the two people he loved most in the world, Shitty knew that he’d been wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though I’ve decided to make this the last chapter in this fic, I definitely want to explore their relationship in greater detail. Keep an eye out for sequels, is all I’m saying haha.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: Certain proofs of Everclear that are sold in Texas are illegal in other states. Because everything bad is legal down here, apparently. Also fun fact, you can’t buy wine in the grocery store in New York. That’s not actually relevant to the story, but I was super mad when I realized I had to go to the liquor store to buy wine. (When I studied abroad in Scotland they sold liquor in Tesco’s and I thought it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.)
> 
> Also Bitty’s method of only drinking every other time Shitty drinks is how I manage to go to bars with my older cousin and not die. I figure she and Shitty are on about the same level.
> 
> i'm on tumblr @ [eve-baird](http://eve-baird.tumblr.com)


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